NEW     WORLD     TRAGEDIES 

FROM    OLD    WORLD 

LIFE. 

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NEW     WORLD      TRAGEDIES 

FROM    OLD    WORLD 

LIFE  ; 

WITH  OTHER  POEMS. 
BY    JOHN    M.    LEAVITT. 


NEW   YORK  : 
HARPER     BROTHERS, 

FRANKLIN    SQUARE. 

LONDON  : 

SAMPSON  LOW,  MARSTON,  SEARLE,  AND  RIVINGTON, 
CROWN  BUILDINGS,  FLEET  STREET. 


Eights  Reserved.) 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1876, 
by  the  Author,  in  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress 
at  Washington. 


CHISWICK    PRESS  :    PRINTED    BY   WHITTINGHAM    AND   WILKINS, 
TOOKS  COURT,  CHANCERY   LANE,  LONDON. 


TO 

B  I  T  H  I  A  ! 


CONTENTS. 


The  Deluge 
The  Periods 


FRANIUS 

Ariston 

The  Jewish  Captives 

Faith 

The  Roman  Martyrs 


P.ige 
1 

61 

139 
199 
217 
237 
255 


VAHIOUS  PIECES  : — 

Our  Flag            .......  275 

Old  England 276 

Shadows  .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .  277 

The  Photograph •    .  278 

Liberty 281 

Our  Country      .         .         .         .         .         .         .  282 

Leaves       . 283 

The  Hills 284 

Paul  Parson        .         .          .         .         .         .         .  287 

Asel's  Soliloquy 290 

A  Song  in  Heaven  to  Home        ....  292 

A  Parlour  Prologue  ......  293 

Near  my  Birth-place ......  295 

Israel's  March-word  ......  295 

The  Heart's  Master 296 

For  the  Book  of  a  Friend  .....  298 

The  All-Maker           .         .         .  299 


x  CONTENTS. 

Page 

VARIOUS  PIKCES  (continued): — 

Invocation          .......  300 

The  Rainbow 301 

A  Vision  of  Solyma             .....  302 
The  Useful  and  the  Beautiful     ....  309 
Written  for  a  Lady,  to  be  given  with  her  Photo 
graph           310 

On  a  Birthday 311 

Life 312 

The  Deity 313 

Solicitude 314 

Regret 315 

Abraham  Lincoln        ......  317 

Birds  at  Morn 318 

Above 318 

The  Clouds 320 

BoabdiPs  Lament  on  the  Hill  of  Tears         .         .  3'23 

Ayxa's  Rebuke  for  Boabdil's  Lament           .         .  325 

Madrigal 327 

Serenade 328 

Art  and  Nature 328 

My  Rose 330 

The  Real  and  the  Ideal              .'  331 


AFRANIUS. 


AFRANIUS. 

ACT    I. 

SCENE  I. — Borne.     Palace  of  the  Gothic  King. 

KING. 

'LD  Sibyl,  I  am  glad  to  see  thy  face, 
Whose    every   feature    of   my   Zala 

speaks, 
And  tells  the  love  that  breathes  to 

her  I  love ; 

She  more  a  Roman  seems,  and  these  her  skies, 
Than  of  my  blood,  and  born  'mid  Gothic  snows. 
How  fares  my  child  ? 

SIBYL. 

0  King,  in  person,  well. 

KING. 

Why  then  this  wildness  in  thine  eye  and  tone — 
This  look  that  I  have  seen  in  summer  skies, 
Which,  dubious,  show  a  smile,  and  drop  a  tear 
While  thunders  gather  in  some  viewless  cloud  ? 


4  AFBANIUS. 

The  teacher  of  my  child  should, shed  round  joy, 
And  brighten  like  a  morning  of  young  Spring. 

SII3YL. 

A  captive  Eoman  seam'd  by  age  and  care 
Has  little  heart  for  laughter,  or  for  love. 
Can  the  scathed  oak,  at  will,  burst  into  bloom, 
And  garland  its  old  limbs  with  fresh  young  leaves  ? 
Can  ice  gush  into  streams  when  suns  are  hid  ? 
The  Alps  are  rock,  yet  on  the  mountain's  heart 
One  flower  moves  tears,  as  its  blue  eye  looks  up, 
And  pleads  with  Heaven  to  keep  the  tempest  back. 

KING. 

Thy  words  show  peril  to  my  daughter  near  ; 
Speak  out  thine  heart ! 

SIBYL. 

With  this  once  threaten'd  tongue  ? 

KING. 

Dwell  not  on  that,  old  nurse,  when  anger  flash'd. 
Sweeping  each  mem'ry  on  its  tide  of  fire 
Of  service  to  my  child,  from  life's  first  bud 
Till  womanhood  in  her  glows  like  a  rose. 

SIBYL. 

But  why  should  I  to  thee  a  fault  unfold 
That  will  upon  a  Roman  bring  down  stripes  ? 

KING. 

Because — refuse,  and  I  thy  lips  will  force, 
And  from  them  wring  the  secret  of  thy  soul. 


AFEANIUS.  5 

SIBYL. 

Thy  hand  a  sceptre  sways,  but  sways  not  me. 
Touch'dbythe  flame  that  burn'diii  Rome's  old  days, 
Thy  wither'd  slave  thine  empire  here  defies. 

KING. 

Stay,  Sibyl,  stay  !  nor  like  the  sorceress  stare, 
Who  on  our  Gothic  hills  Rome's  conquest  sang ! 

SIBYL. 

My  love  for  Zala  forces  me  to  tell 
What  Rome's  own  kings  from  me  could  not  compel. 
'Tis  some  time  since  I  saw  how  Julius  sigh'd, 
And  gazed  on  her  sweet  face,  and  watch'd  her 
form — 

KING. 

But  why  not  this  before  ? 

SIBYL. 

Thy  rage,  O  King, 

Restrain,  and  hear  me  through !  A  short  hour  since, 
By  frenzy  urged,  when  glow'd  the  noontide  heat, 
Nor  stirr'd  a  breeze  to  cool  the  burning  cheek, 
Julius,  at  Zala's  feet,  avow'd  his  love, 
While  she,  astonish'd,  spurn'd  the  slave  away. 

KING. 

And  now  she  asks  my  vengeance  on  his  head. 
Ho  !    Julius  !    Julius  !   slaves,  bring  Julius  here  ! 

SIBYL. 

Nay  !  with  the  eloquence  of  tears  she  pleads 


6  AFRANIUS. 

That  I  his  crime  should  not  disclose  to  thee  ; 
But  fearing  his  wild  flame  I  disobey. 

KING. 

What !  will  she  ask  the  brazen'd  villain's  life  ? 
Who  'neath  our  joke  dares  such  a  suit  must  die. 

Enter  Servants  with  JULIUS. 

Viper !  thy  shining  skin  did  tempt  this  haiid 
To  warm  thee  and  be  stung — base  spider  thou, 
Spinning  sly  toils  to  snare  my  Zala's  heart ! 

JULIUS. 

Hear  me,  O  King  ! 

KING. 

Mean  villain,  say  no  more  ! 

And  didst  thou,  slave,  address  my  daughter's  ear, 
And  importune  her  with  the  gaze  of  love  ? 
Strip  him,  and  let  the  rod  beat  out  his  life  ! 

JULIUS. 
Oh,  spare  my  flesh  the  scourge  !  I  pray  thee  spare  ! 

KIXG. 

When  first  our  Goths  possess'd  these  towers  of  Rome 
Thy  pensive  face  and  eye  my  fancy  won, 
And  waked  a  wish  to  cultivate  thy  gifts. 
Before  thy  mind  Rome's  learning  was  unroll'd ; 
Thy  skilful  hand  soon  touch'd  the  lute's  sweet 

strings ; 
Thy  magic  voice  stirr'd  depths  of  melody, 


AFRANIUS.  7 

And  I,  near  mine  own  Zala,  placed  thee  then 
As  a  companion  more  e'en  than  a  slave  ; 
Yet  thou  didst  dare  to  whisper  thy  vile  vows. 
Lay   hold,    and   scourge   him   till    his  breath   be 
gone  ! 

Enter  ZALA. 

ZALA. 
Oh,  father,  spare  !  I  do  beseech  thee,  spare  ! 

KING. 

These  Roman  dogs  our  silly  kindness  spoils. 
The  coming  feast  which  marks  that  glorious  hour 
When  our  brave  Goths  first  scaled  these  walls  of 

Rome 
Shall  bind  with  heavier  chains  the  bloated  knaves. 

ZALA. 

Oh  !   must  poor  Julius  die  !  is  here  no  hope — 
No  door  where  Pity  may  an  entrance  find, 
And  soften  down  stern  Justice  into  tears  ? 
His  murd'ress  I  will  ever  brand  myself, 
And  in  the  midnight  toss,  and  tear  my  couch, 
Staring  to  see  his  pale,  reproachful  face, 
While  through  my  ear  will  pierce  eternal  shrieks 
Till  I  will  never  know  the  dew  of  sleep. 

KING. 

Thy  tears  prevail.     Julius,  I  grant  thy  life. 
Yet  shall  thine  ear  cut  off  teach  with  thy  blood, 
And  thy  foul  loss,  its  lesson  to  our  slaves. 


8  AFRANIUS. 

JULIUS. 

0  King,  I  pray  thee  let  me  rather  die  ! 

Beat,  stab,  or  burn ;  stain  with  my  gushing  blood 

The  lion's  jaws  ;  sink  me  with  hissing  snakes 

Lone  in  the  sea  ;  in  silent  dungeons  chain 

Me  to  the  corpse  whose  loathsome  touch  is  death, 

But  clip  me,  not  to  live  a  thing  of  scorn  ! 

KING. 

Julius,  enough !  thou  wilt  not  change  me  more. 

\_To  the  attendanfs. 

Just  when  the  dial  points  the  hour  of  four, 
And  ere  the  shadow  of  its  finger  pass 
One  hair-width  from  the  mark,  apply  the  knife  ! 


SCENE  II. — The  Pantheon.     SIBYL  alone. 

SIBYL. 
IgMMORTAL   gods  who  cradled  infant 

Borne, 
Then  made  the  world  her  throne,  oh,  are 

ye  dead  ? 

Majestic  Jove,  why  sleeps  thy  thunderbolt 
AVhen  wretches  hurl  thine  image  to  the  dust  ? 
While  Juno  was  dragg'd  down  to  earth  by  boys, 
Mock'd  on  our  streets,  where  thy  fierce  lightnings 
then  ? 


AFRANIUS.  9 

Thy  shrines  are  robb'd,  thine  oracles  are  dumb, 
Thy  children  kneel  and  cry  to  emptiness. 
Mail'd  Mars,  who,  flashing,  led  Rome's  eagles  on, 
His  helmet  saw  torn  from  his  godlike  brow 
And  to  vile  uses  turn'd,  yet  stood  mute  marble. 
Yea !    she  whose  Gorgon  locks  shook  hosts  with 

fear, 

Felt,  unavenged,  the  hammer  of  a  slave. 
Thou,  crown' d  Apollo,  image  of  the  sun 
Whose  glories  beam'd  in  features  most  divine, 
Majestic  form,  the  god  of  light  reveal'd, 
Yet  shatter 'd  down  by  those  who  hate  thy  shrines  ! 
Diana's  bow,  her  quiver,  and  her  zone 
Ground  into  dust,  and  wide  o'er  Tiber  strewn  ! 
Sweet  Venus,  dream  of  love,  we  saw  thy  head 
First  batter'd  off,  then  turn'd  to  ribald  jest ! 
Fawns,  Dryads,  Nymphs,  ye  bright  divinities 
Who  smiled  o'er  earth  the  winged  watch  of  Heav'n, 
Your  pedestals  are  void,  your  statues  marr'd ; 
Shrines,  altars  gone,  and  this  domed  Pantheon  bare 
Before  a  murder'd  Jew  they  style  their  god ! 
Ye  deities  of  Rome,  come  back  !   come  back  ! 
Our  gold  shall  pile,  our  blood  shall  smear  your 

shrines, 

And  we  will  lift  each  image  from  the  dust, 
And  temples  crowd  with  your  true  worshippers  ! 


10  AFRANIUS. 


SCENE  III. — A  wallc  in  the  Eoyal  Gardens 
in  Home. 

QUEEN. 

little  Goth,  my  pretty  northern  flower 
Set  in  Italia's  soil  to  grow  more  bright, 
Thy  father's  wife,  I  am  thy  mother  too. 

ZALA. 

O  Queen,  in  love  I  hence  will  hold  thee  such, 
And  e'en  as  her  who  gave  to  me  my  life. 

QUEEN  (placing  a  rose  on  ZALA'S  breast). 
This  rose,  more  than  a  bud,  nor  quite  a  flower, 
Which  wants  one  morn  to  bring  its  glories  forth, 
Now  thee  becomes  more  than  in  rounded  bloom, 
As  thou,  beyond  the  girl,  nor  woman  yet, 
Wouldst  look  most  sweet  on  some  strong  manly 
breast. 

ZALA. 

The  Queen  doth  love  her  little  rose  so  well 
She'd  cut  its  stem  and  send  its  beauty  off. 

QUEEN. 

Nay  !  plant  her  flower  but  in  a  richer  soil : 
Princes  do  beg  to  have  its  scented  bloom. 

ZALA. 

Her  rose  she'd  sell,  its  charms  would  turn  to  gold, 


AFRANIUS.  11 

Take  for  it  slaves,  or  lands,  maybe  a  crown ; 
Its  virgin  blushes  change  for  so  ranch  pelf ! 
Forgive  its  sorrow  for  its  dang'rous  worth. 

QUEEN. 

What  lovers  sigh  to  wear  our  beauteous  flower — 
The  brightest  in  the  gardens  of  the  world  ! 
It  must  not  fade  and  die  in  loneliness. 
Maxentius  first  would  win  it  to  his  breast ; 
His  noble  form  will  weigh  less  than  his  gold. 

ZALA. 

A  mountain  bear  !  thy  rose  in  his  vast  paws ! 
His  beard  would  prick  its  leaves,  nor  would  he  lose 
One  precious  hair  could  he  a  goddess  wed. 

QUEEN. 

Take  Marco  then  with  all  his  fine  estates 
And  slaves  to  fill  the  Capitol. 

ZALA. 

Marco  ! 

A  fox  whose  cunning  made  him  rich — his  eye, 
His  chin,  his  nose  the  prowler's  race  betray — 
Sly  in  his  love,  his  very  kiss  a  trick  ; 
His  arms  about  my  waist  would  make  me  creep, 
And  cry — Marco  in  that  warm  clasp  what  plot  ? 

QUEEN. 

Then  Caius  choose,  in  Roman  houses  rich — 
In  gems,  in  robes,  in  steeds,  in  pictured  halls, 
High  in  his  birth — if  small,  most  exquisite. 


12  AFRANIUS. 

ZALA. 

He  would  my  lap-dog  make — spoil'd  pretty  thing, 
And  with  himself  well  pleased — I'd  curl  his  hair, 
His  whisker  twist,  and  call  him  my  bright  lad, 
While  he  would  laugh,  the  charming  mannikin  ! 

QUEEN. 

Ah  !  Jovian  then  ! 

ZALA. 

A  ponderous,  splendid  ox, 
Well  fed  and  strong,  whose  soul  has  turn'd  to  flesh 

QUEEN. 

Girl,  jest  no  more  !   The  king  would  have  his  throne 
Stand  firm  in  Rome,  and  marry  thee  for  this. 

ZALA. 

The  daughter  sold,  confirms  the  father's  crown — 
Bargain'd  her  heart  through  craft  for  policy  ! 
The  girl  rebels,  stands  on  her  womanhood, 
And  tells  the  king  she  chooses  for  herself — 
Ties  her  own  heart  to  him  who  calls  her  wife, 
And  will  a  husband  wed,  but  not  the  state. 

QUEEN. 

This  Sibyl's  art !    I  pray  thee,  Zala,  pause ! 
Thy  parents,  not  thyself,  should  plan  thy  good. 
Princes  and  nobles  crowd  here  for  thy  hand. 

ZALA. 

Thou  dost  say  true — my  hand,  but  not  my  heart. 
Yet  blame  not  Sibyl  where  mine  own's  the  act. 


AFRANIUS.  13 

QUEEN. 

Thy  fancy  weaves,  maybe  around  some  slave, 
A  spell  of  girlish  love — a  spangled  snare 
That  dances  in  the  sun  to  be  thy  death. 

ZALA. 

My  heart  but  wants  a  man — a  man  will  have — 
NOT  more,  nor  less, — 'tis  Heav'n  my  fate  decrees. 

Enter  KING. 

QUEEN. 

0  King,  thy  daughter  spurns  her  father's  plans, 
And  vows  that  she  must  wed  at  her  own  will. 

[ZALA  falls  on  her  knees  in  tears. 

KING. 

My  daughter,  at  my  feet  lie  not  to  weep 

Like  some  lone  rose  bent  down  by  night's  chill 

dews, 

But  stand  up  in  the  sun,  our  royal  flower, 
Thy  sweetness  shedding  o'er  our  house  and  life  ; 
So  wed  that  Goth  and  Koman  thee  will  bless ; 
Nor  for  thee  earn  a  father's  blasting  hate 
If  thou  refuse  to  prop  his  tott'ring  state  ! 


14  AFRANIUS. 


SCENE  IV. — A  retired  street  in  Home. 

LUCIUS. 

JAIL  my  old  friend  !    How  sober  is  thy 
§  face! 

VARRO. 

My  mood  suits  my  gray  hairs  !   but  thou  art  fresh 
As  this  young  morning  air,  bright  as  the  sunshine. 

LUCIUS. 

Yea!  I  have  heard  what  brings  me  back  my  youth, 
And  makes  each  burning  pulse  throb  with  new  joy. 

TITANIUS. 

To  Lucius,  Yarro,  I  have  told  our  scheme ; 
When  first  he  heard  he  turn'd  his  face  to  heaven, 
Then  clasp'd  my  hand  until  the  flesh  is  black  ; 
This  aching  palm  shows  still  his  love  for  Rome. 

VARRO. 

His  clutch  more  tight  yet  round  the  tyrant's  throat, 
To  leave  behind  a  mark  as  dark  as  death ! 
'Tis  men  we  want,  to  go  where  Battle  bares 
His  blood-red  arm,  and  on  to  glory  leads. 
Not  such  be  ours  who  test  the  crowd  by  straws, 
Blown  on  vile  breath  where  Fortune  gilded  smiles; 
But  those  for  Rome  who'll  fight  and  peril  all 
Where  Power  enthroned  on  wrong  would  drain 
their  blood, 


AFEANIUS.  15 

And  kindle  round  their  brows  the  martyr's  flame. 
Such  was  our  Brutus  when  he  Cassar  struck 
Whose  grandeur  spann'd  the  world,  and  touch'd 

the  heav'ns, — 

A  tyrant  rending  with  avenging  steel 
Made  first  by  Justice  keen.     Like  Brutus  yet 
May  our  Afranius  stab  ! 

LUCIUS. 

A  man  of  dreams, 
Who  sighs  where  he  should  strike,  and  weakly 

weeps 
Where  he  should  spill  but  blood — not  words  but 

blows 
Will  break  Rome's  chains,  and  yet  he  draws  no 

sword. 

VAERO. 

But  in  him  lurks  a  soul  of  fire  that  stirr'd 
By  war  to  flame  will  scathe  this  Gothic  herd. 

TITANIUS. 

Nay  !   at  the  font  the  hero's  spark  was  quench'd ; 
The  sprinkling  priest  has  turn'd  him  to  a  girl ; 
Before  those  drops,  sat  valour  on  his  helm, 
Beam'd  from  his  eye,  tower' d  in  his  manly  form, 
Outflashing  from  the  circles  of  his  sword 
Till  he  'mid  battle's  earthquake  moved  like  Mars 
When   thundering  on   the   gods,   and  shaking 
heav'n. 


16  AFRANIUS. 

LUCIUS. 

Yes  !  lean  as  love  beneath  the  moon  he  steals 
To  sit  in  tears  upon  some  shatter' d  shaft, 
Resting  his  silent  head  upon  his  hand 
To  watch  the  stars,  and  gaze  on  vacancy. 

VARRO. 

Te  both  mistake — the  hero's  fire  will  blaze  ; 
A  crisis  comes — these  silken  lords  of  Rome 
Who  live  in  homes  fond  fathers  built  for  them, 
Spend  gold  they  never  earn'd,  and  cringe  to  Goths; 
Burning  with  lust  where  they  should  flame  with 

hate ; 
Nought  in  themselves,  who  boast  their  robes  and 

slaves, 

Dote  on  the  steeds  that  whirl  them  to  the  goal, 
Or  vaunt  the  wretch  who  wins  them  crowns  with 

blood, — 

Wantons,  whom  music  lulls  in  curtain'd  beds — 
Who  have  the  shapes  of  men,  and  souls  of  boys, 
And  shake  to  feel  the  breath  e'en  of  the  spring, 
These  may  by  valour  win,  what  cowardice  lost, 
And  learn  from  stripes  in  dying  manhood's  gasp. 
But,  angry,  Julius  comes  !    I'll  help  his  rage. 

Enter  JULIUS. 
Tell  me,  0  slave,  thy  master  how  this  morn  ! 

JULIUS. 

Master,  thou  fool  !    A  Roman  knows  no  master  ! 


AFRANIUS.  17 

LUCIUS. 

Save  when  the  lash  shall  mark  his  back  with  blood, 
And  his  all-quivering  flesh  proclaim  the  slave. 

JULIUS. 

'Twas  for  the  king  ye  ask'd — then  curse  the  king, 

And  having  done  begin  and  curse  again, 

Till  curses,  hot  as  hate,  shall  pierce  him  through. 

VAREO. 
Oh,  bravo,  Julius — tell  us  whence  this  wrath ! 

TITANIUS. 

The  royal  tongue  has  scored  for  some  slight  fault, 
Or  Zala,  peevish,  order'd  him  to  stripes 
Which  to  a  hero  turn'd  her  writhing  slave. 

JULIUS. 

Your  jeers  I  do  deserve,  since  I,  a  slave, 
Content  to  live  for  those  who  pamper'd  me, 
Have  show'd  these  Goths,  more  hungry  than  their 

wolves, 

Our  delicate  delights  whose  organs  drink 
The  glorious  light  of  these  Italian  skies. 
But  that  has  happen'd  which  strikes  off  my  chain  ; 
Henceforth  I  live  to  blast  the  tyrant's  life. 

ALL. 

Farewell,  brave  Julius,  till  thy  temper  cools. 

[Exeunt. 
JULIUS. 

I  seem  hideous — of  my  proportion  shorn  ; 
C 


18  AFRANIUS. 

Each,  stream  will  mirror  my  deformity ; 
The  rounded  moon  each  month  will  tell  my  loss ; 
The  sun's  full  orb  will  speak  it  through  each  day. 
I'll  feel  unfit  to  dwell  'mid  curious  beasts ; 
Ashamed  to  look  my  fellow  in  the  eyes  ; 
Doom'd  till  my  death  to  hear  the  scoffs  of  boys, 
The  suppress'd  titter  of  each  giddy  girl ; 
Clipp'd  like  some  dumb  beast  to  bear  abroad 
The  mark  and  badge  of  him  whose  slave  I  am. 
0  ear,  that  thrill'd  once  with  a  mother's  voice, 
Thy  savage  sev'rance  turns  my  love  to  hate, 
My  conscience  kills,  wakes  hell  that  cries  for  blood. 
Thou,  through  whose  veins  Rome's  noblest  currents 

flow'd, 

Dragg'dfrom  thy  halls  down  to  a  Goth's  vile  breast, 
Smile  from  thy  skies,  and  hear  thine  injured  son  ! 
Since  there  I  knelt  where  Jove  his  image  lifts 
Majestic  as  a  god,  and  burn'd  to  him 
The  grain  whose  smoke  roll'd  o'er  the  Capitol, 
My  breast,  an  ocean,  has  whirl' d  round  in  fire. 
An  angel  bars  the  starry  gates  of  light ! 
Apostate  from  my  faith,  I  read  my  doom — 
Revenge  my  heaven  !    Revenge  at  last  my  hell  ! 


AFRANIUS.  19 


ACT    II. 

SCENE  I. — A  retired  place  in  Rome. 

AFRANIUS. 
JY  friends,  ye  do  mistake  ! 

FIRST   GOTH. 

Afranius,  nay  ! 
We  well  have  weigh'd  thy  power  to  gain  our  suit. 

AFRANIUS. 

'Tis  scarce  a  month  I  boast  these  arms  mine  own; 
JN"or  has  the  fetter's  scar  yet  left  my  flesh. 
So  late  a  slave  I'll  hurt  you  more  than  help. 

SECOND    GOTH. 

Thy  valour  moved  the  king  to  set  thee  free, 
And  gratitude  will  open  thee  his  heart. 

FIRST    GOTH. 

Behind  the  throne  one  moves  the  royal  hand ; 
Her  smile  who  broke  thy  chain  will  aid  our  cause. 

AFRANIUS. 

That  hint  would  blast  me  in  her  father's  eyes, 
And  hurl  me  back  again  to  harder  bonds. 

SECOND    GOTH. 

'Twas  Sibyl  whisper'd  that  the  girl  was  pleased  ; 
Again  we  pray  thee  help  us  in  our  suit. 


20  AFRANIUS. 

AFRANIUS. 

Calm  Prudence  tells  me  I  should  shun  the  risk, 
Yet  I  will  dare  all  peril  for  my  friends. 

BOTH   GOTHS. 

Thanks,  Afranius,  thanks  !  long  life  and  thanks  ! 

[Exeunt. 

AFRAXIUS. 

Most  wretched  he  who  lives  on  smiles  of  kings  ! 

0  Liberty,  thy  music  midnight  storms, 

Thy  robes  the  snow,  thy  bed  the  mountain's  breast, 
Thy  roof  the  clouds,  thy  food  the  peasant's  crust, 

1  love  thy  hills  yet  more  than  royal  halls 
Where  I  do  cringe  in  glitt'ring  misery. 
Should  it  be  known  we  at  the  fountain  met, 
Beneath  the  moon,  to  seal  eternal  vows, 
The  eyes  of  night  our  starry  witnesses, 

My  Zala's  life  would  flow  out  in  her  blood, 
While  I  chain' d  low  beneath  the  Tiber's  wave 
Could  strike  from  Rome  no  bond  !  Around  is  night ! 
Yet  Heav'n  has  form'd  us  as  the  sun  and  moon, 
Which  both  must  shine  to  bring  out  earth's  best 

bloom. 

Wild  tempests  shake  my  breast  and  cloud  my  life  ! 
Religion,  Love,  and  Rome  are  struggling  here  ! 

Enter  JULIUS. 
Ha  !    Julius,  how  art  thou  ? 


AFEANIUS.  21 

JULIUS. 

Afranius,  ill ! 

AFRANIUS. 

Our  country's  shadows  will  fall  on  the  heart. 
Why  look'st  thou  so  pale  ? 
JULIUS. 

Thou,  Afranius,  thou, 

Basking  in  smiles  while  Romans  groan  in  chains, 
Thou,  glittering  thus,  art  steel'd  to  our  mean  griefs. 

AFRA.N'IUS. 

Julius,  this  does  me  wrong.      When  flatter'd  I, 
When  bent  a  pliant  knee,  when  play'd  the  knave 
To  gain  my  freedom  and  the  Goth's  good  will  ? 
Have  I  not  blush'd  for  every  Roman's  shame  ? 
Have  I  not  burn'd  for  every  Roman's  wrong  ? 

JULIUS. 

Afranius,  'tis  most  true. 

AFRANIUS. 

Why  then  affirm 

That  I  on  Fortune's  honours  plume  myself, 
And  shut  my  heart  to  pity  and  to  grief  ? 
Be  blind  these  eyes  when  they  refuse  a  tear ! 

JULIUS. 

Weep  not,  but  strike  !  change  sighs  to  manly 
blows  ! 

AFRANIUS. 

Julius,  this  mystery  cease !  explain  thy  words  ! 


22  AFRANIUS. 

JULIUS. 

I  will  ! 

[He  pulls  aside  the  hair  ^vhich  is  always  worn 
long  to  conceal  his  loss. 

AFRANIUS. 

0  sight  most  foul  and  horrible  ! 
Say,  whence  this  blood,  this  sad  disfigurement  ? 

JULIUS. 

I  loved  and  on  my  knees  avow'd  my  love. 

AFRANIUS. 

Loved  !  Julius,  whom  ? 

JULIUS. 

Zala! 

AFRANIUS. 

Zala !  Zala  ! 

JULIUS. 

Ah  !  why  should  anger  crimson  on  thy  cheek 
As  if  the  girl  had  vow'd  her  heart  to  thee  ? 

AFRANIUS. 

And  how  did  she  thy  suit  receive  ? 
JULIUS. 

Eeceive ! 

She  treated  it  with  sheer,  contemptuous  scorn, 
Deeming  it  too  presumptuous  for  belief, 
While  Sibyl  told  the  king,  who  maim'd  me  thus. 

AFRANIUS. 

I  pity  thee  ! 


AFRANIUS.  23 

JULIUS. 

Pity  not  me,  but  Rome  ! 
My  griefs  are  nought  while  pangs  tear  her  dear 

breast ; 

Each  statue  of  her  gods  hui'l'd  from  its  base  ; 
Her  palaces  and  temples  spoil'd  by  fire, 
Or  given  o'er  for  sport  to  rev'lling  winds  ; 
While  Sadness  sighing  sits  upon  her  gates, 
Steals  'mid  her  streets  to  hear  the  biting  lash, 
Veils  in  our  homes  the  smiles  of  innocence 
That  sparkled  there  to  make  the  fireside  heav'n  ; 
And  all  Rome's  mightiness  by  heroes  nursed, 
That  panted  once  to  pass  this  meagre  earth, 
And  strike  the  stars,  down'neath  the  heels  of  Goths 
Who  gaze  around  like  children  on  a  toy, 
Amazed  to  know  from  whence  their  fortune  sprang. 
And  yet  Afranius  sleeps,  and  yet  Rome  sleeps  ! 
Awake  !   arouse,  and  swear  with  me — revenge  ! 

[Exit. 

AFKANIUS. 

Stung  with  the  daughter's  scorn  and  father's  wrong, 
He  hurls  me  forward  to  assuage  his  hate. 
To  slay  the  Goth  at  Zala  points  the  sword — 
Maybe  with  her  own  blood  will  stain  this  hand. 
Vengeance  from  Heaven  should  come  and  not  from 

me. 

But  must  the  Go  th  lash  Romans  bound  with  chains  ? 
Celestial  Pow'rs,  dispel  this  madd'ning  doubt  ! 


24  AFEANIUS. 

SCENE  II. — A  retired  place  in  a  garden. 

ZALA. 

OW  thick  the  air! 

Iti  SIBYL. 

To  me  this  hour  seems  bright 
And  pure  as  heav'n.      See  how  the  lingering  sun, 
With  orb  enlarged,  hangs  on  the  horizon's  verge, 
Fringing  with  golden  hues  those  western  clouds 
While  all  the  sky  with  crimson  blushes  round  ! 
Oh !  oft  on  such  an  eve  my  fancy  spies 
The  gods  with  glancing  wings  and  radiant  hair 
Gliding  along  those  beams  of  slanted  light 
From  heav'n  to  earth,  and  back  from  earth  to 
heav'n. 

ZALA. 

Sibyl,  to  me  this  world  is  voiceless  ,now ; 
My  sorrow  veils  its  beauty  o'er  with  gloom. 
Believest  thou  dreams  ? 

SIBYL. 

When  Somnus,  the  dull  god, 

Shuts  in  the  eye,  he  wings  the  soul,  whose  glance, 
With  Heav'n's  own  help,  looks  through  the  future's 
mists. 

ZALA. 

But  late,  when  darkness  lay  upon  the  world, 
And  curtain'd  round  my  couch,  while  all  was  still 


AFEANIUS.  25 

Save  that  low  sound,  like  ocean's  roar  in  shells, 
Night  murmurs  in  the  ear,  I  wildly  dream'd 
That  I  was  walking  on  a  toppling  cliff 
Around  whose  base  of  rocks  dash'd  foam-white 

waves, 

When  suddenly,  seized  with  a  mad  desire, 
I  threw  me  headlong  from  the  hideous  height, 
And  fell  as  drops  an  autumn-shooting  star, 
Grasping  in  agony  infinite  for  breath ; 
Out  from  their  sockets  stood  mine  eyes  with  pain  ; 
My  blood  was  forced  up  to  my  bursting  skin, 
Until  at  last  I  struck  the  thund'ring  surge, 
And  waked  up  in  the  ocean's  dark  abyss. 

SIBYL. 

That  wedlock  means,  unless,  defied  the  Fates, 
My  charms  shall  bring  thee  from  engulphing  ills. 

ZALA. 

Thy  secret  arts  are  mysteries  to  me  ; 

No  balm  to  cure  my  heart  save  him  I  love. 

Enter  AFRANIUS. 

And  here  he  is,  with  hope  for  my  despair. 
Afranius,  save  me  from  rough  Jovian's  arms  ! 
The  King  would  force  me  wed  him  most  I  hate. 
We'll  fly  to  some  lone  isle  where  Winter  lives, 
And  tempests  dash  wild  oceans  on  the  rocks ; 
Our  love  will  tame  the  storm,  and  shine  our  sun, 


26  AFRANIUS. 

And  garland  winter  with  the  bloom  of  spring  ; 
The  vine  shall  hang  her  clusters  round  the  spot, 
And  with  the  dewy  sparkle  of  the  morn 
Our  songs  shall  hail  the  blush  upon  the  hills  ; 
And  we  will  soothe  day's  monarch  to  the  sea 
When  twilight  brightens  with  the  star  of  eve. 

AFRANIUS. 

Thy    words  cut   through  my  heart — but  Heav'n 
knows  how  ! 

ZALA. 

Dost  pause  !  On  a  mere  slave  have  I  exhaled 

The  virgin  fragrance  of  a  loving  soul  ? 

Did  I  mistake  a  coward  for  a  man, 

And  deck  the  fawning  wretch  with  passion's  hues  ? 

Dost  spurn  me  off,  the  daughter  of  thy  king, 

To  wed  a  beast  whose  look  and  touch  I  loathe  ? 

AFRAXIUS. 

Oh  !  save  mine  honour,  all  I  have  is  thine. 
'Tis  Rome  that  calls  me  thus  to  crush  my  heart : 
Nay  !  turn  each  pulsing  throb  to  agony, 
And  after  death  pierce  with  eternal  pain. 
ZALA. 

0  man,  thy  love  how  prudent  and  how  poor  ! 

1  conquer  fear  for  thee  ;  mock  death  and  fate. 
A  woman's  love  knows  nothing  but  itself, 
And  him  who  has  evoked  its  awful  power  ; 

It  leaps  the  bars  of  wealth,  the  grades  of  rank 


AFRANIUS.  27 

And  thrones  of  kings  ;  and  seas  could  swim  of  fire 
To  clasp  its  own,  and  wing  eternity. 
And  nought  kills  woman's  love  save  woman's  pride, 
Whose  quick  o'ermast'ring  nature  quenches  love 
As  darkness  hides  the  universal  day. 

AFRANIUS. 

Hear  me,  Zala  !  hear,  I  beg  thee,  hear ! 

ZALA. 

Not  words  but  deeds  I  want.     A  man  would  bear 
Me  on  his  lion  breast  along  a  brink 
Of  fire  where  demons  yell'd  in  flames.     Farewell ! 

AFRANIUS. 

Oh,  Zala,  stay !  Could  I  tell  all,  thyself 

Would  laud  the  deed.      "Tis  honour  spurs  me  on. 

ZALA. 

Honour  !  prate  that  to  fools  !  a  bubble  blown 
From  air  that  dances  in  the  sun  to  cheat 
Its  dupes,  whose  touch  turns  back  to  emptiness. 

[Exit. 

AFRANIDS. 

Oh  !   to  be  blamed  by  her  who  has  my  heart, 
And  call'd  a  coward-slave  !  'tis  infamy  ! 
This  is  the  piercing  pang  of  misplaced  love  ! 
A  Roman  and  a  Christian  wed  a  Goth  ! 
Too  long  this  love  distill'd  ambrosial  sweets, 
And  flush'd  my  life  with  dreams,  until  I've  been 
As  one  'mid  ev'ning's  music-murm'ring  gales 


28  AFRANIUS. 

That  steal  in  dalliance  where  soft  summers  fringe 
A  sky-reflecting  lake  set  bright  with  stars. 
Spirit,  that  fills  with  flame  the  patriot's  veins, 
That  drew  great  Cincinnatus  from  his  plough, 
And  struck  the  dagger  to  Virginia's  heart, 
Then  breathed  o'er  Livy's  page  immortal  fire, 
Come  from  the  past,  and  help  my  nerveless  arm 
Till  shines  our  Rome  eternal  sun  of  earth  ! 


ACT    III. 

SCENE  I. — A  retired  street  in  Rome. 

VAREO. 

j  Y  Lucius,  hail !  how  wrinkled  grows  thy 

brow ! 
Sad  thou  as  if  this  world  were  dead,  and 

thou 
Didst  stay  behind  its  ashes  to  inurn. 

LUCIUS. 

Rome  is  the  world — and  is  she  not  a  corpse, 
Graveless,  and  foul,  fed  on  by  beasts,  while  ghosts 
Shriek  round  on  winds  ? 

ANTONIUS. 

And  whose  but  ours  the  blame 
If  Jove,  with  storms,  has  roll'd  mid  roaring  flames 


AFEANIUS.  29 

His  chariot  from  her  high-domed  Capitol  ? 
He  on  Olympus  sits  to  mock  her  sons, 
Who,  pigmies,  strut  along  her  marbled  halls 
T'  amuse  the  laughing  majesty  of  Heav'n. 

VARRO. 

Be  ours  the  blame  that  tears  extinguish  hope  ; 
Once  shone  our  Rome  the  jewel  of  the  world, 
And  kings  did  beg  to  be  her  citizens. 

ANTONIUS. 
Then  we   were   men,   and  fought  till   empires 

ranged 

Beneath  our  sway,  and  Rome  sat  on  the  world, 
Proud  as  her  banner'd  bird,  who  from  his  crag 
Looks  to  the  sun,  the  king  of  earth  and  sea. 
Oh,  now  our  glory  dimm'd  and  gone  our  power  ! 
No  more  the  Briton  from  his  ocean-isle, 
Chain'd  to  a  swarthy  Moor,  or  Scythian  chief, 
Follows  the  victor's  car  of  glittering  gold, 
Piled  with  the  treasures  of  a  plunder'd  world, 
And  roll'd  in  triumph  to  the  Capitol ; 
Instead,  Romans  in  bonds,  and  lash'd  to  toil 
Where  once  their  fathers  with  exulting  shouts 
Bursting  from  windows,  walls,  and  joyous  roofs, 
Have  rock'd  these  pillar'd  temples  to  their  domes, 
And  shook  th'  eternal  arches  of  the  heavens. 

VARRO. 

And  would  Antonius  aid  to  right  our  wrongs  ? 


I 

30  AFRANIUS. 

ANTONIUS. 

More  willing  I  than  serves  the  hand  the  head. 

LUCIUS. 

Thanks  to  the  gods  !  thy  father's  fire  in  thee  ! 
Titanius,  with  swift  words  unfold  our  plans. 

TITANIUS. 

Yes  !  we  whose  fathers  sway'd  the  power  of  Rome, 
Her  senates  graced,  and  thunder'd  on  her  fields, 
Have  sworn  to  drive  these  wolves  back  to  their 
wilds. 

ANTONIUS. 

Hear  I  aright  ?  deceives  my  heart  mine  ear  ? 
Resolve  will  burst  our  chains  !   'tis  not  in  words 
But  wills  that  Freedom  lives  !  The  soul  that  dares 
The  tyrant's  power,  o'erturns  the  tyrant's  throne. 
O  Rome,  in  this  one  oath  I  hail  thee  free ! 

TITANIUS. 

Julius,  we  mock,  and  yet  'twas  he  moved  first ; 
The  drops  from  his  poor  ear  have  fired  our  plans  ; 
By  him  impell'd,  we  swore  to  kill  each  Goth 
We  meet  that  day  whose  feast  tells   Rome  her 

chains. 
Afranius  shrank — him  Julius  yet  must  swear. 

VARRO. 

He'll  give  his  hand  to  break  the  bonds  of  Rome  ; 

The  breeze  that  steals  on  murmuring  wing 

To  kiss  the  flower,  turn'd  storm, will  shake  theworld. 


AFRAtflUS.  31 

TITANIUS. 

As  coming  hither  muffled  in  my  cloak, 

Old  Sibyl  placed  this  parchment  in  my  hand. 

[Reads. 

The  Fates  have  sent  the  earthquake's  shock 
To  heave  the  hill  and  rend  the  rock. 
I  hear  their  thunders  loud  and  high ! 
I  see  their  lightnings  o'er  the  sky  ! 
Red  comets  blaze,  and  on  the  West 
Ride  warrior-forms  for  battle  dress'd  ; 
With  flags  of  blood  they  rush,  they  fight 
Till  swallow'd  up  by  closing  night. 
There  on  the  lonely  mountain-side 
Where  Satyrs  dance,  and  demons  ride, 
The  sister  Fates  amid  the  gloom 
Shriek  to  the  winds  Rome's  coming  doom  ; 
They  tell  who  will  the  tyrant  slay 
And  live  thereafter  but  a  day, 
That  hero  brings  to  Rome  her  state 
When  Glory  smiled  to  make  her  great. 
But  if  a  moment  he  expires 
Before  that  day  has  quench' d  its  fires 
Then  Rome  no  more  shall  gain  her  might 
Until  Italia's  sons  unite 
A  scarlet  Priest  to  hurl  from  an  imperial  height. 

ANTONIUS. 

Be  mine  the  hour  !  be  mine  the  envied  stroke  ! 


32  AFEANIUS. 

A  tyrant  there  in  kingly  mantle  sits  ; 
There  strikes  a  dagger  in  a  phantom-hand  ! 
Bright  visions  glorious  with  immortal  shapes 
Are  smiling  round  and  voices  "  onward  "  cry. 
Fortune,  nor  death,  nor  all  an  empire's  might 
Can  shake  the  soul  that  loves  Italia's  right  ; 
Be  gash'd  my  body  till  it  bleed  and  die  ! 
The  patriot  lives  immortal  in  the  sky. 


SCENE  II. — A  private  room  in  Rome. 

AFRANIUS. 
this  hour  !  Hast  ever  lost  a  friend  ? 

JULIUS. 

I  had  no  friend  save  her  who  gave  me  life  ; 
Her  death  made  heav'n  all  cloud,  and  earth  a  grave. 

AFEANIUS. 

Soft  as  the  tear  it  wakes,  the  name  of  friend  ! 
Eve's  whispers  not  so  sweet — hence  death  more 

drear. 
The  fate  of  my  Antonius  hast  thou  heard  ? 

JULIUS. 
He  fail'd,  I  know,  to  stab  the  king,  and  dies. 

AFEANIUS. 

He's  gone — lone- wandering  now  amid  the  shades  ; 
And  yet  he  follows  me,  stain' d  o'er  with  blood. 


AFRANIUS.  33 

JULIUS. 

With,  ghastly  look  he  comes  to  cry — revenge  ! 
But  tell  me  how  he  breathed  away  his  ghost. 

AFRANIUS. 

To  deepen  the  humility  of  Borne 

The  tyrant  made  a  gladiatorial  show  ; 

And  there  high-ranged  along  the  circling  seats, 

Piled,  tier  o'er  tier,  the  Coliseum  round, 

These  wild  Goths  saw  with  Romans  Romans  fight, 

Where  once  our  Pompeys  and  our  CaBsars  sat 

To  see  their  fathers  clubb'd,  and  torn  like  beasts  ; 

Barbarians  yell  while  Romans  fall  to  die. 

JULIUS. 

Each  drop  of  Roman  blood  for  vengeance  pleads. 

AFRANIUS. 

The  worst  remains  ;  my  eye  grows  dim  with  tears, 
My  brain  reels  round  as  when  a  whirlpool  boils 
While  the  black  horror  through  my  mem'ry  swims; 
Antonius,  hurling  defiance  at  the  crowd, 
And  breathing  fiery  flashes  from  his  face, 
Was  dragg'd  to  view.     A  Roman  stood  his  foe  : 
"  Perish  the  hand,"   he   cried,  "  that   here  would 
strike  ! " 

JULIUS. 

How  like  Antonius  that !  What  nobleness  ! 

AFRANIUS. 

His  foe  a  craven  proved :   unsheathed  his  sword, 
D 


34  AFEANIUS. 

And  flesh'd  a  biting  wound.      In  scorn  our  friend 
The  wretch  disarm'd,  and  threw  him  on  the  sand. 
Then  shook  the  Coliseum  with  the  cry 
To  slip  the  lion's  bars,  when,  lo  !   a  beast 
With  hunger  mad  and  mane  erect,  rush'd  forth, 
And  stood  with  glaring  eyes,  in  awful  pause, 
Till,  with  a  bound,  he  fasten'd  in  our  friend 
Ten  horrid  claws,  and  tore  him  with  fierce  teeth ; 
Blood  spouted  forth,  and  he  fell  on  the  ground. 

JULIUS. 
Afranius,  kneel,  and  swear  with  me  revenge  ! 

AFEANIUS. 

Vengeance  to  Heav'n  belongs,  and  not  to  me. 

JULIUS. 

Thy  col  our' d  sketches  of  our  ancient  Rome, 
Thy  sickly  fancies  from  thy  Christian  books, 
Thy  plunge  within  the  coward-making  font, 
And  thy  communings  with  low  vulgar  sects 
Thy  manliness  have  kill'd.  • 

AFRANIUS. 

Thy  taunt  I  bear  ; 

A  world  I  loathe  where  only  villains  win  ; 
I  hate  Rome's  boasts  of  blood.    Virtue  my  aim, 
At  whose  pure  shrine  bent  low  the  Grecian  sage ; 
He  saw  in  mists  what  shines  in  noon's  full  sun. 
Virtue  no  more  the  image  of  a  god 
Shaped  in  cold  marble  by  immortal  art, 


AFBANIUS.  35 

But  our  Creator  breathing  in  our  flesh  ; 
Divinity  come  down  to  talk  with  men, 
To  drop  a  tear  for  them,  and  for  them  die, 
Then  rise  to  heav'n  a  universe  to  sway. 

JULIUS. 
Stop  thou  this  stuff,  and  take  the  oath  from  me  ! 

AFRAXIUS. 

Thou  wouldst  kill  all — wouldst  strew  our  bloody 

streets 

With  gasping  infancy  and  dying  age ; 
Heav'n  can  never  smile  on  such  dire  cruelty. 

JULIUS. 

Let  Heav'n  then  frown,  and  Hell  cry,  death  for  all  ! 
When  spared  the  Goth  since  yell'd  he  through  our 

gates  ? 

Our  city's  marr'd  by  flames  ;  our  Romans  writhe 
Beneath  his  lash  ;  our  children  are  his  slaves  ; 
Our  mothers,  wives,  and  daughters  in  his  arms  ! 
Look  here,  and  see  mine  own  deformity  ! 
Each  drop  from  this  clipp'd  ear  says— all  shall 

die. 

AFRANIUS. 

Unstain'd  by  gore  shall  Rome  to  glory  rise  ! 
ISTo  spot  on  that  new  crown  around  her  brow 
Wheia  gleams  a  cross  above  her  Capitol ! 

JULIUS. 

A  sick  girl's  dream !  'tis  blood  is  freedom's  price. 


36  AFEANIUS. 

AFRANIUS. 

Who  seeks  the  right  stands  like  a  radiant  god 
Whom  Heav'n's  own  hand  has  arm'd  for  victory. 
I  will  not  swear  to  slay  the  innocent ! 
JULIUS. 


AFRANIUS. 

Shalt  ? 

JULIUS. 

Aye,  shalt! 

AFRANIUS. 

Shalt  !  do  thou  beware  ! 
JULIUS. 

Do  thou,  not  I,  beware  !  I  would  not  rouse 
The  lion  from  his  lair  to  feel  his  fang ; 
A  brawl  between  us  is  the  death  of  Rome. 
Let  me  proclaim  that  Zala  has  thine  heart, 
And  on  my  witness  place  your  whisper'd  vows, 
Thee  Goths  would  kill,  and  madden'd  Romans 

curse  ; 
Two  walls  of  circling  flames  close  o'er  thy  head. 

AFRANIUS. 

Oh,  shall  this  scheming  over-master  me  ! 

Te  lofty  notions  of  immortal  truth 

By  Heav'n  inspired,  must  ye  bend  now  to  craft  ? 

Must  virtue  wither  in  a  villain's  breath  ? 

My  Zala  or  my  Rome  through  me  must  die. 


AFRANIUS.  37 

JULIUS. 

Toll  me  if  thou  wilt  swear  to  kill  the  Goth  ! 

AFRANIUS. 

I  swear. 

JULIUS. 

All? 

AFRANIUS. 
All! 

JULIUS. 

All  on  the  feast-day  met  ? 

AFRANIUS. 

I  swear. 

JULIUS. 

One  spared,  or  old  or  young,  is  death. 
Hence  mercy  bid  farewell,  and  steel  thine  heart ! 

[Exit. 

AFRANIUS. 

Alone  in  night,  no  guiding  hand  to  clasp  ! 
Love  draws  me  here,  and  there  my  country  calls ; 
The  shadow  of  a  doubt  on  all  my  life  ! 
One  bold  bad  man  will  gain  his  evil  end 
Before  the  good,  perplex' d,  can  leave  his  knees. 
Oh,  Heaven,  look  down,  and  smile  upon  my  deed ; 
But  led  by  Thee  I'll  go  through  this  thick  night ; 
Beyond  smiles  Truth  in  her  eternal  light. 


38  AFRANIUS. 


ACT    IV. 

SCENE  I. — A  banqueting  liall  in  a  Palace.  The 
KING  at  the  head  of  the  table;  Gothic  courtiers 
around. 

KIXG. 

|T  friends,  let  every  lip  express  our  joy  ! 
No  more  to  Christ,  but  Thor,  we  give 

our  thanks. 

This  feast  recalls  the  hour  -when  our  brave  Goths 
Seized  Rome's  proud  eagle  which  had  awed  a  world, 
And    clipp'd    his    plumes    with    their    victorious 
swords. 

FIRST  GOTH. 

First  to  our  gods  we  brimming  goblets  fill ! 

{All  drink. 

SECOND  GOTH. 

Next,  to  our  warrior- shades  we  quaff  our  wine  ! 
Our  fathers  fed  with  blood  the  eye  of  Rome ; 
Their  sons  have  seen  her  lords  with  wild  beasts 
fight. 

{All  drink. 

KING. 

Blind  Fate  rules  Thor  himself,  and  sinks  in  dust, 


AFEANIUS.  39 

Or  lifts  amid  the  clouds — to  Fate  we  drink. 

[All  drink. 
Let  song  now  fling  all  shadows  from  the  soul ! 

ALL    SING. 

To  Thor,  to  Thor,  to  Thor 
Send  up  the  shout  of  war  ! 
To  Thor,  to  Thor  our  cry 
When  battle  fires  the  sky  ! 
To  Thor  the  war-spoils  bring, 
And  round  red  altars  sing  ! 

THIRD    GOTH. 

But  why,  0  King,  this  paleness  on  thy  cheek  ? 
What  airy  shape  doth  fix  thy  straining  eye  ? 
KING. 

A  shadow,  but  a  shadow — there,  'tis  pass'd ! 
Let  music  drive  its  darkness  from  my  brain  ! 

ALL    SING. 

As  the  wine  of  the  feast  gives  its  strength  to  the  eye, 
As  our  battle-swords  flash  their  red  light  o'er  the 

sky, 

'Tis  the  victor  of  Jove,  our  own  Thor  we  behold, 
Him  who  tore  from  the  Ccesar  his  purple  and  gold. 

KING. 

Thor  conquer'd  Christ  and  Jove,  and  hence  my  god. 
His  thunders  loud !   the  air  is  quivering  flame  ! 
Hell  seems  with  Heaven  to  fight  and  get  my  soul ; 
The  peal,  the  flash  to  me  are  ominous. 


40  APR  AN  I  US. 

FOURTH    GOTH. 

Nay !    Heav'n  is  telling  that  its  clouds  drop  rain 
To  make  the  golden  crops  and  mellow  fruits, 
And  give  its  joyous  sparkle  to  the  wine. 

KING. 

The  pang  is  gone — drain  now  the  brimming  cups 
To  drown  these  cares  that  grin  about  our  throne, 
And  pierce  like  thorns  the  head  that  wears  a  crown. 

FIRST    GOTH. 

To  Alaric,  who  first  our  banner  waved 
Above  the  Capitol,  and  sleeps  now  safe 
In  coffin'd  gold  beneath  Busentinus  ! 

[All  drink. 

KING. 

I  will  the  casement  seek,  and  court  the  winds 
Of  Heaven  to  play  on  my  quick-throbbing  brow. 

[Aside  at  Hie  window. 

Some  spirit  spreads  black  wings  upon  the  night, 
And  breathes  a  subtle  poison  through  the  air. 
Away  these  images  from  memory  ! 
My  soul  is  like  yon  cloud  that  hangs  o'er  Rome 
To  hide  the  stars,  while  torches  flash  below, 
And  fill  the  spectral  sky  with  lurid  glare. 

SECOND   GOTH. 

To  peerless  Zala,  royal  rose  of  Rome  ! 
May  north  and  south  alike  love  her  sweet  bloom  ! 

[All  drink. 


AFEANIUS.  41 

KING. 

Zala,  ye  said !  that  word  brings  back  my  dreams  ! 

The  red  moon  rides  amid  the  flying  clouds, 

While  fountains  spout  beneath  in  streams  of  blood, 

Leaping  through  air  in  demon  mockery ! 

A  shrouded  matron  from  an  altar  tears 

A  queenly  bride  whose  voice  shrieks  out  our 

fall! 

Tempestuous  shouts  now  pierce  my  aching  ear 
Like  screams  of  drowning  men  out  on  the  sea, 
Above  the  storm  and  thunder  of  the  wave  ! 
Away  these  shows  of  joy !  this  emptiness  ! 
Why  deck  my  death-bed  with  the  flowers  of 

spring?  . 

Why  spread  a  feast  beside  my  yawning  grave  ? 
Heaven  speaks  in  fire,  and  earth  casts  up  her  dead  ! 

Enter  Messengers. 

FIRST   MESSENGER. 

Excuse  my  homage,  King,  and  hear  my  words  ! 
Our  Roman  slaves  on  by  Afranius  led — 

KING  (striking  Mm  to  the  floor). 
Ill-omen'd  owl,  I'll  stop  thy  boding  voice  ! 
Ye  gods,  how  writhes  the  knave  like  some  trod 
worm  ! 

SECOND   MESSENGER. 

I  fear,  O  king,  my  news  will  cost  my  life  ! 


42  AFBANIUS. 

KING. 

Speak  out !   the  storm  has  pass'd,  and  now  my 

veins 
Beat  like  an  infant's  pulse. 

SECOND   MESSENGER. 

By  Julius  stirr'd, 

And  by  Afranius  led,  and  bound  by  oaths 
To  kill  each  Goth  they  meet,  the  Roman  slaves 
Have  arm'd,  and  shed  our  blood,  and  fire  our 
homes. 

KING. 

Quick,  fly,  my  friends,  while  I  defend  my  throne  ! 

[Exeunt  all  but  KING. 

Julius,  thy  mother's  blood  spots  o'er  this  hand, 
And  thou,  unconscious,  dost  avenge  the  stain. 
The  eye  of  Heav'n  is  on  the  murd'rer's  track ; 
Not  for  a  guilty  king  his  throne  a  shield ! 
Omnipotence  would  drag  me  up  from  hell, 
Or  pluck  me  from  the  stars  to  meet  my  fate  ! 
Rage  on,  ye  storms  !  ye  thunders,  peal  my  doom ! 
I  feel  beneath  my  feet  a  tott'ring  throne ! 

Enter  AFRANIDS. 

Ha  !  serpent,  is  it  thou  ?  I  thought  not  this  ! 
My  love  to  thee  requited  with  thy  sword  ! 

AFRANIUS. 

Thou  art  the  foe  of  Rome,  and  hence  must  die. 


AFEANIUS.  43 

KING. 

I  strike  thee,  slave  ! 

[The  KING  rushes  at  AFKANIUS,  but  after  a 

struggle  is  Idlled. 
AFEANIUS  (over  the  body'). 

My  hate  gash'd  not  that  flesh 
On  which  these  tears  drop  down  in  agony ; 
'Twas  love  for  thee,  Italia,  pierced  this  king ; 
Else  murder's  stain  would  be  eternal  here. 
Rebellion,  oh,  most  terrible  thy  front, 
Though  shaped  by  Heav'n's  own  hand,  and  from 

the  sleep 

Of  calm  endurance  by  an  angel  waked 
To  put  the  mantle  of  thy  terrors  on, 
And  ride  the  whirlwind ;  for  thy  path  is  blood, 
Groans  are  thy  music,  and  thy  breath  is  flame : 
Thou  dost  to  death-pangs  turn  the  infant's  smile, 
While  o'er  her  cold  dead  babe  the  mother  weeps. 
Nay,  at  thy  feet  I  see  my  Zala  lie, 
Pale  on  her  face  the  light  of  woman's  love. 
O  Liberty,  thy  price  such  blood,  and  yet 
Humanity  must  burst  each  tyrant's  chain  ! 

Enter  ZALA  (pursued  by  JULIUS  with  a  draivn  dagger). 

ZALA. 

Save  me,  my  love  !     Save,  oh,  save  me ! 

AFEANIUS. 

Back,  slave, 


44  AF  RAN  I  US. 

On  thy  life  !  back,  or  thou  shalt  die  ! 

JULIUS. 

Ha !  caught, 

Afranius,  caught !  Fate  is  too  strong  for  faith ! 
There  cries  to  thee  thy  love,  and  here  thy  oath ! 
Thy  heart  and  honour  have  now  join'd  in  war ; 
Kill  thou  this  girl,  or  perjure  thine  own  soul ! 

AFEANIUS. 

Incarnate  Mercy  could  not  cleanse  the  spot ! 

ZALA. 

I  bare  my  breast  to  thee  !  drain  out  each  drop, 
And  with  my  blood  pay  down  thine  honour's  price  ! 

AFRANIUS. 

I  will  obey  my  heart,  and  not  my  head, 
And  trust  that  Heav'n  will  smile  away  my  sin. 

JULIUS. 

Then  mine  the  blow — my  hand  pays  off  the  score : 
Now  with  her  life  I  will  avenge  mine  ear ! 
[JULIUS  attempts  to  stab  ZALA.    AFRANIUS,  seizing 

him,  throws  him  violently  down. 
AFRANIUS  (stooping  to  examine  the  bodif). 
The  villain's  pulse  is  still !    Zala,  we  fly. 

ZALA  (pointing  to  the  KING). 
Behold  these  eyes  that  stare  into  thy  face, 
These  lips  compress 'd  in  their  last  agony, 
This  drooping  head,  these  cold  and  nerveless 
limbs, 


AFBANIU8.  45 

These  wounds  which  murder  shriek  !  thy  friend's, 

thy  king's  ! 
A  father's  corpse  lies  there  between  our  hearts. 

AFRANIUS. 

Forgive  the  blow  !  'twas  Heav'n's  high  will,  not 

mine; 

A  month  will  find  my  power  firm  in  our  Rome, 
And  then  I  will  proclaim  thee  as  my  wife. 

ZALA. 
That  blood  has  left  a  spot  no  rite  can  purge. 

AFRAHIUS. 

If  Heav'n  blots  out  my  sin,  why  wilt  not  thou  ? 
In  some  old  temple  I  can  hide  thee  safe 
Until  this  tempest  passes  from  our  path. 

ZALA. 

Ne'er  can  Hope  bind  her  halo  round  our  lives ; 
The  past  may  fringe  my  sorrows  with  its  light, 
But  not  its  golden  ray  can  chase  my  gloom  ; 
A  crimson  sea  divides  love  cannot  cross  ; 
My  life  a  stain  on  thine — each  heart-throb  here 
Within  this  breast  proclaims  thy  broken  vow. 
This  glittering  dagger,  snatch'd  when  Havoc's 

cry 

Wild-hurtling  through  the  air  our  palace  reach'd, 
Will  be  my  passport  to  elysian  fields 
Where  I  to  thee  will  glide  made  pure  by  death, 
And  spend  eternal  ages  in  thy  love. 


46  AFEANIUS. 

AFRANIUS. 

This  is  no  time  for  words,  I  bear  thee  off. 

[Exit  with  ZALA  in  his  arms. 
JULIUS  (sloiuly  rising'). 

Kill'd,  not  yet  !  no  thanks  to  thee,  Afranius  ! 
But,  dead,  my  soul  would  wander  bodiless 
To  mar  thy  bliss.     Thy  fireside  should  grow  dark, 
When  jealousy's  sharp  thorn  in  thee  I'd  plant, 
And  breathe  suspicion  on  the  treach'rous  air, 
Till  Zala's  beauty  seem'd  deformity  ; 
Her  breast  of  love  cold  as  the  mountain's  crown  ; 
Loathsome  her  touch  :  a  harlot's  trick  her  kiss. 
Spurning  this  king,  her  blood  and  thine  I'll  have  ; 
Remorseless  Fate  draws  round  her  tight' iiing  folds ! 
Bright  as  the  morning  now  may  smile  your  skies, 
Yet  from  this  broken  oath  a  storm  shall  grow 
Blacker  than  night,  and  charged  for  both  with 
death. 


SCENE  II. — Temple  of  Apollo  in  Rome.    SIBYL 
engaged  in  her  incantations. 

*>  E  gods  who  from  the  azure  hills  look  down 
To  trace  the   thoughts    that   weave    our 

destiny, 

Watching  each  charm  as  girlish  beauty  bursts 
To  womanhood,  and  ye  who  manhood  guard, 


AFEANIUS.  47 

Leading  its  eagle-wing  up  to  the  sun 

That  it  may  soar  where  coward- natures  sink, 

Alas,  grim  darkness  o'er  your  children  scowls, 

And  Julius  vengeful  stalks  amid  the  gloom. 

Encircled  in  this  scroll,  their  mystic  fate, 

While  yet  my  oath  forbids  to  break  the  seal  ! 

I'll  stand  upon  the  temple's  eastern  porch, 

And  Phoebus  as  he  lifts  his  face  of  fire 

Above  the  hills  may  show  the  token  wish'd.  {Exit. 

Enter  AFEANIUS  and  ZALA  from  opposite  parts. 

AFKANIUS. 

Come  to  my  arms  !  the  vail  lifts  from  our  lives  ! 
The  drop  baptismal  glitt'ring  on  thy  brow 
Stood  sparkling  there  a  prophet  of  new  joy. 

ZALA. 

When  I  before  the  Cross  renounced  our  gods 
The  wall  between  our  hearts  itself  fell  down  ; 
Our  mingled  lives  shall  flow  from  earth  to  heav'n. 

AFEANIUS. 

Where  once  night-brooding  doubt  sat  on  my  life 
And  turn'd  stern  action  to  abortive  thought, 
Faith  like  an  angel  smiles  and  bids  me  on. 
To  do,  or  bear,  or  die,  alike  to  us, 
Since  Heav'n,  we  know,  unwinds  our  destiny. 

ZALA. 

Like  some  full  cup  whose  sparkling  drops  brim 
o'er, 


48  AFRANIUS. 

My  heart  o'erflows  with  joy — but  thou  must  fly. 
See,  Julius  peers  around  that  column's  base  ! 

JULIUS  (appearing^. 

Afranius,  duped  again  ;  I'm  not  yet  dead, 
But  live  to  blast  thy  love,  thy  name,  thy  life. 

AFRANIUS. 

Hell  is  unlock'd  to  belch  tliee  from  its  flames. 

ZALA. 

Ye  pillars  of  yon  dome,  oh,  crush  the  wretch ! 
What  is  thine  errand  here  ? 

JULIUS. 

Canst  thou  not  tell  ? 

Thy  father  maim'd  me  thus  and  died ;  by  whom  ? 
The  hand  of  him,  my  tool,  whom  most  I  loathe. 

ZALA. 
This  not  enough  ? 

JULIUS. 

'Tis  much,  not  all  I  ask. 

Crush'd  by  contempt,  love  turns  to  brooding  hate, 
Waking  the  keenest  of  all  mortal  pangs 
That  gnaw  till  death  will  keep  from  rival  arms. 

AFRANIUS. 

Man  yet  in  form,  a  demon  hast  thou  turn'd  ! 

JULIUS. 

Afranius,  thou  hast  won  the  heart  I  loved ; 
Need  I  tell  thee  how  for  this  I  hate  thee  ? 


AFEANIUS.  49 

A  blow  from  thy  clench'd  fist  fell  on  me  here  ; 
Each  hour  it  burns,  and  tingles  in  my  nerves, 
And  boils  along  the  channels  of  my  blood, 
And,  mounting  to  my  brain,  it  crazes  me. 

[Shouting  heard. 

Ha !  ye  are  mine !  Our  Romans  fill  the  place, 
And  cry  out  for  his  blood  who  broke  his  oath. 

Enter  Soldiers. 
Drag  this  weak  traitor  to  a  felon's  death  ! 

AFRANIUS. 

Nay  !  ye  minions,  back  !  I  am  Afranius  ! 
This  voice  rang  out  amid  the  clash  of  arms  ; 
This  hand  flung  first  your  banner  to  the  winds, 
And  slew  the  tyrant  in  his  palace-hall. 
Him  will  ye  kill  who  struck  your  fetters  off, 
And  pay  back  with  his  blood  the  debt  ye  owe  ? 
Stand  !    I  say,  stand,  and  hold  my  person  sacred  ! 
I'll  come  before  your  judges  in  an  hour, 
And  answer  then  the  charges  ye  may  urge ; 
But  not  with  pinion'd  hands  and  head  droop'd  down 
While  the  vile  rabble  hoots  behind  my  back. 
Nay !  I  will  walk  as  now,  towering  and  firm, 
With  the  bold  tread  of  manly  innocence 
And  conscious  service  rendcr'd  to  the  state, 
And  prove  upon  my  side  humanity. 
Te  Romans  are  !  respect  me,  too,  a  Roman  ! 

E 


50  APR  AN  I  US. 

ACT   V. 

SCENE  I. — A  temple  of  Jupiter. 

SIBYL. 

nought  I  have  essay'd  my  mystic 

arts  ; 
My  prayers  are  useless,  and  my  spells 

are  vain ; 

Or  anger'd  are  the  gods,  or  has  old  age 
My  powers  benumb'd,  and  dimm'd  my  baffled  eyes  ? 
On  every  side  teem  signs  I  may  not  read ; 
The  arrowy  swallows  from  their  chimney-tops, 
Majestic  swans  that  o'er  their  shadows  swim, 
With  vultures  circling  up  till  specks  they  seem 
Across  the  white  of  clouds  ;  and  wars  on  earth, 
And  blazing  battles  o'er  the  fiery  sky, 
I  scan  in  vain,  nor  make  the  future  out. 
Yet  Hope  will  see  these  pillars  rise  around, 
Ton  dome  arch'd  o'er,  while  breathing  marbles  line 
With  forms  of  life  again  these  lonely  aisles, 
And  once  more  Romans  on  these  pavements  kneel. 
Immortal  Jove,  come  here  from  yonder  cloud  ! 
Ah  !   sailing  o'er  its  fringe  of  silver'd  light, 
Then  lost  to  view,  thine  eagle's  form  I  see ; 
Gleaming  in  lightning-fires  he  sweeping  comes 


AFRANIUS.  51 

And  cleaves  with  his  broad  breast  the  stormy  air ! 
Flashes  thy  thundering  bolt  to  strike  thy  bird ! 
He  shrieking  falls  and  with  him  falls  our  Rome ! 
Broad  opens  now  the  future  to  my  sight 
Where  Havoc  blasts,  and  Rome  sinks   down  in 
nisrht  ! 


SCENE  II. — The  Eoman  FORUM.  VARRO,  Lucius, 
and  TITANIUS  robed  as  Judges ;  AFRANIUS  and 
ZALA  standing  as  accused;  JULIUS  as  Prosecutor. 

VARRO. 
!  are  ye  prepared  ? 

AFRANIUS. 

We  are,  my  Lords  ! 

VARRO. 

Then  let  these  shouts  be  hush'd,  nor  Justice  lift 
Her  beam  where  storms  thus  roar.     The  charge 
ye  know  ! 

AFRANIUS. 
And  stand  to  meet ! 

VARRO. 

A  Roman  shall  have  right. 

AFRANIUS. 

Our  sole  defence  is  in  the  very  deed. 


52  A  FRAN  I  US. 

VARRO. 

Julius,  stand  forth,  and  state  what  thou  wilt  urge. 

JULIUS. 

I  charge  he  broke  his  oath  which  bound  to  kill 
Each  Goth  he  met  on  the  high  festal  day. 

VAERO. 

The  proofs  produce  !  nay,  the  most  certain  proofs. 
Without  sure  proofs,  through  us,  no  Roman  dies. 

JULIUS. 

Ye  judges,  hear  !  I'll  give  what  ye  demand. 
That  night  of  massacre  I  sought  this  girl, 
Who  saw  me,  and  wild-shrieking  ran  away. 
Enraged,  with  dagger  drawn,  I  follow'd  her ; 
She  flew  along  the  hall,  and  like  a  fawn 
Sped  on  from  room  to  room,  till,  urged  by  fate, 
She  saw  Afranius  o'er  her  father's  corpse, 
And  scream'd  for  help.      I  shouted  out,   "  Thy 

oath!" 

He  hurl'd  me  down  and  bore  the  girl  away, 
A  refuge  making  near  Apollo's  shrine, 
As  all  these  Romans  know,  who  seized  them  there. 
Now  I  or  he,  I  claim,  must  kill  this  girl, 
And,  if  his  hand  refuse,  he  too  must  die. 

VARRO. 

Not  hate,  but  justice,  should  thy  words  inspire. 

JULIUS. 
I  am  not  here  for  right,  but  for  revenge  ! 


AFEANIUS.  53 

This  blazes  through  my  veins,  and  burns  my  brain — 
Stung  by  his  blow,  disfigured  by  her  sire, 
I  only  live  to  quench  my  hate  in  blood. 

VARRO. 

Afranius,  speak  in  answer  to  this  charge. 

AFRANIUS. 

My  lords,  he  owns  that  malice  brought  him  here, 
Nor  hides  his  hate  beneath  the  forms  of  law, 
But  flaunts  it  hideous  to  the  day's  broad  glare. 
I  broke  my  oath,  and  glory  in  the  deed, 
Since,  gain'd  its  end,  its  binding  force  was  gone, 
And  then  to  kill  had  mark'd  with  murder's  stain. 

VARRO. 

Admit  not  aught  to  prejudice  your  cause. 

AFRANIUS. 

I  ask  not  my  own  life !  nay,  ask  to  die  ! 

But  why  condemn  this  girl,  whose  blood  would  be 

A  stain  eternal  on  the  name  of  Rome  ? 

She  cries  through  me  to  save  from  yon  crazed 

wretch 

Whose  nostril  now  dilates  with  smell  of  blood. 
There  is  a  golden  line  by  Heav'n  inscribed 
To  stay  the  law's  rash  steps — 'tis  Charity. 
Nor  is  our  state  yet  firm ;  the  northman's  fires 
Will  blaze  along  these  hills  that  stand  round  Rome ; 
His  trumpets  peal,  his  armies  seek  revenge. 
With  useless  murder  then  incense  him  not. 


54  AFEANIUS. 

Your  judgment  we  await ! 

VARRO  (after  consultation  by  the  Judges). 
Our  duty  plain ! 

Afranius  lias  confessed  his  oath  he  broke, 
And  hence  compels  us  to  pronounce  his  death — 
Unless  he  kill  the  girl. 

AFRANIUS. 

My  Lords,  ye  mock. 

On  life's  verge  poised,  will  ye  insult  me  there  ? 
Am  I  a  thief  round  whom  the  rabble  yell — 
A  wretch  whose  honour  as  his  robe  sits  loose, 
And  who  would  sell  his  manhood  for  his  breath, 
Piercing  the  heart  he  loved  to  save  his  life  ? 
If  this  ye  think  of  me,  I  beg  to  die  ! 

VAERO. 

To  save  thy  life,  we  strain'd  for  thee  the  law ; 
Mercy  refused,  thy  death  is  thine  own  deed. 

AFRANIUS. 

My  lords,  I  know  I've  dream'd — dream'd  of  a  time 
When  Borne  should  win  a  brighter  glory  back 
Than  flash'd  from  vict'ry  'neath  her  eagle's  eye 
To  shape  her  marbles,  and  inspire  her  song ; 
When  breathed  her  orators  heroic  fire, 
And    swarm'd  her   streets  till  beat  here  earth's 

great  heart. 

I  when  a  boy  have  climb'd  yon  Capitol 
To  read  in  stony  lips  and  eyes  her  wrongs, 


AFRANIUS.  55 

While  waving  in  the  moon  the  ivy  sigh'd, 

And  spirits  groan'd  to  stars  their  grief  that  Rome 

Should  feel  despair  eternal  at  her  heart. 

Like  some  spired  city  o'er  a  dusky  plain, 

Oft  through  the  future's  darkness  rose  to  view 

Resplendent  visions  of  her  olden  fame. 

Death  paints  another  scene  before  my  sight. 

Crown'd  on  these  hills,  with  crook  shall  rule  a 

Priest 

In  scarlet  robed,  and  claiming  to  be  God ; 
Where  thund'ring  legions  bore  our  eagles  on 
He  shall  with  monks  a  second  empire  build, 
Whose  spoil  is  souls,  whose  traffic  Mercy's  blood, 
Whose   power,    not   swords,   but   Heav'n's   own 

barter'd  keys. 

Beyond  his  reign,  prophetic  years  will  come 
To  shed  upon  the  earth  millennial  bloom  ; 
And  yet,  beyond,  a  city  bursts  to  view 
Whose  streets  are  gold,  whose  walls  far-flashing 

gems; 

Its  sun  His  Pace  divine  who  died  for  man, 
And  rules  Creation  as  Eternal  king. 

ZALA  (tearing  aivay  her  veil). 
Afranius,  thou  must  live  ! 

AFRANIUS. 

On  yonder  cloud 
An  angel  smiles,  and  calls  us  to  the  skies. 


56  AFBANIUS. 

ZALA  (rushing  and  kneeling  before  the  Judges'). 
Hear  me,  ye  judges,  and  ye  men  of  Rome  ! 
Me  make  the  victim  which  your  laws  demand  ! 
Mar  not  his  form,  nor  let  your  axe  distain 
That  brow  which  Fame  and  Freedom  both  entwine ! 

VAEEO. 
Lictors,  proceed,  and  lead  them  to  the  block ! 

ZALA  (kneeling  before  AFKAXIUS). 
'Tis  I  have  call'd  this  stroke  down  on  thine  head  ! 
Let,  then,  on  me  the  blow  of  Justice  fall ! 
The  state  ordains,  and  hence  'tis  law,  not  crime. 
Oh,  cut  earth's  ties  !  I'll  gain  celestial  wings, 
And  soon  our  souls  will  meet,  and  we  in  light 
Will  trace  the  windings  of  Life's  groves  and 

streams, 
And  thrill  with  love  eternal  to  our  King  ! 

Enter  SIBYL. 

SIBYL. 

Make  room  !  make  room  !  and  hear  the  gracious 
gods  ! 

VAEEO. 

Sibyl,  thy  looks  some  message  tell  from  Heav'n  ! 

SIBYL. 

My  age  and  name  are  proofs  of  what  I  say. 
Julius,  thy  mother  on  the  couch  of  death 
This  parchment  gave,  and  till  the  gods  should  speak 


AFRANIUS.  57 

She  made  me  swear  to  never  break  the  seal. 
Just  now  within  the  temple  of  great  Jove 
I  heard  a  voice  in  awful  thunders  say — 
"  Fly,  to  the  judges  fly,  and  give  the  scroll ! " 
Then  silence  settled  in  the  solemn  place. 

[VARRO  taking  the  scroll,  the  Judges  read 
it  and  consult. 

VARRO. 

This  is  an  interference  from  the  gods, 
As,  Romans,  all  your  judges  do  affirm. 

CITIZENS. 

The  scroll !    the  scroll !    tell  us  what  says  the 
scroll ! 

VARRO. 

An  infant  of  the  king,  a  girl,  expired, 
And  from  the  breast  of  her  who  Julius  bore 
The  former  Queen  took  Zala  as  her  child. 
A  Roman  thus,  and  not  within  the  oath, 
Your  judges  do  pronounce  th'  accused  are  free. 

JULIUS. 
A  shallow  lie  to  rob  me  of  revenge ! 

[AFRANIUS  and  ZALA  embrace  amid  the 

shouts  of  the  people. 

Oh  !  hated  sight  more  sharp  than  pangs  of  hell ! 
Worse  than  the  tooth  of  Cerberus  that  kiss  ! 
That  bliss  I'll  blast,  and  take  eternal  fire. 

[JULIUS,  rushing,  stabs  AFRANIUS. 


58  APR  AN  I  US. 

AFRANIUS. 

Oh. !  fatal  stab  that  robs  of  Love  and  Rome  ! 
Death  darkens  o'er  mine  eyes  and  earth  swims 

round ! 

Zala,  thy  face  shines  like  the  star  of  eve, 
And  Life  immortal  bursts  on  all  my  gloom  ! 

[AFRAJQUS  dies,  and  ZALA,  falling,  expires  on 

Ms  body. 
SIBYL. 

Ye  gods,  had  he  but  breathed  till  set  yon  sun, 
In  him  had  lived  for  us  Eternal  Rome  ! 
Hope  made  me  blind  !   Jove's  bolt  was  prophecy ! 

VARRO. 

Lictors,  the  murd'rer  seize,  and  hold  him  fast ! 

JULIUS. 

Hands  off,  ye  men  of  Rome  !    I'll  cheat  you  all, 
And  spoil  your  vengeance  with  this  dagger's  point ! 
[JULIUS  stabs  himself  and  dies. 

SIBYL. 

Where  I  divined  new  glory  for  our  Rome, 
The  voice  was  heard  through  Jove's  majestic 

aisles 

That  I  might  snatch  these  from  a  felon's  death, 
And  give  their  names  immortal  to  the  stars. 
Oh,  long  'mid  gloom  shall  Rome  in  scarlet  sit, 
The  nations  ruling  with  a  priestly  hand, 
And  empires  luring  on  the  path  of  death 


AFRANIUS.  59 

By  the  false  glitter  on  her  ghostly  brow ! 
But  now  on  these  old  eyes  new  brightness  streams, 
Nor  kings  nor  pontiffs  shine  beneath  its  beams  ; 
Italia  !  when  thy  capital  is  Rome, 
Eternal  glory  then  shall  burst  o'er  Freedom's 
home  ! 


ARISTON. 


ARISTON. 


ACT  I. 

SCEXE  I. — A  room  in  Athens  in  ivhich  a  symposium 
lias  just  been  finished. 

AKISTIPPUS. 

;  OLO,  hold  him— hold  him  lest  he  fall  ! 
Our  common  manhood  sinks  in  him 
to  earth. 

PHILIPPON. 

Jove,  how  the  fellow  reels,  yet  heavy  seems, 
And  helpless  as  the  dead ! 

AEISTIPPUS. 

Ariston,  stand  ! 

Stand  like  a  man  and  be  once  more  thyself ! 
No  overloaded  ship  out  011  the  sea, 
When  struck  by  storms  and  waves,  would  stagger 
so. 


04  AEISTON. 

IOLO. 

How  beautiful  for  Greece  the  bound  where  wine 
Will  sparkles  give  to  wit,  not  madd'ning  flames  ! 

PHILIPPON. 

Our  gods  implore  to  never  crown  our  feasts, 
Since,  if  none  touch,  none  thus  can  turn  to  beasts. 

ARISTIPPUS. 

Cease  thy  philosophy,  and  lend  thine  hand  ! 
Our  strength  is  vain.  [ AEISTON  falls. 

Our  friend  is  down  once  more — 
Down  like  a  Satyr,  snoring  off  his  cups. 

IOLO. 

Athens  ne'er  show'd  a  form  or  soul  so  fine — 
Yet  her  Hyperion  dribbles  on  the  floor 
—The  lustre  gone  from  two  half-open'd  eyes, 
Vacant  and  red — a  face  that  look'd  a  god's 
Most  pitifully  blank — a  head  and  limbs 
Whence  Phidias  took  the  majesty  of  Jove, 
Immortal  making  his  Olympian  king, 
Lie  low  together  in  that  heap  of  flesh 
— A   slave  to   wine   the  soul  that    might  read 

stars, 
Rule  over  men,  and  strike  from  states  their  bonds  ! 

Enter  CALOPHOS. 

CALOPHOS. 

Oh  !  worse  than  death  this  sight — a  corpse  less  sad 


ARISTON.  65 

Whose   worms   proclaim    our    doom,    than   mind 
debased  ! 

IOLO. 

Behold  thy  work — the  end  of  thy  wise  ways — 
The  pride  of  thy  free  school  down  there  a  slave  ! 

CALOPHOS. 

I  ask  why  men  earth's  bounty  thus  will  curse  ? 
The  cause  of  drunkenness,  I  say,  is  one. 

ARISTIPPUS. 

Nay  !  this  man  loves  his  wine  to  wing  his  wit : 
And  that  to  warm  his  blood,  or  gild  his  gloom. 

IOLO. 

This  friend,  rotund,  imbibes,  as  sponges,  dews ; 
That,  lean,  like  some  old  pipe  when  summer  suns 
Have  touch'd  earth's  gracious  springs,  and  made 
them  low. 

PHILIPPON. 

Ariston  is  the  type  and  sum  of  all. 
Immortal  Bacchus  'tis  makes  mortals  reel ; 
Olympus  drunk,  the  earth  will  stagger  more. 

CALOPHOS. 

Youth  is  the  steed  that  whirls  the  car  to  wreck 
Where  age  will  drive  as  silent  as  its  rein. 
What  earth  of  good  could  give,  Ariston  had 
The  spark  of  genius  flash'd  out  from  his  eyes, 
And  Athens  half  adored  her  godlike  son  ; 
Yet  in  his  soul  the  void  that  cries  for  wine, 
P 


66  AEISTON. 

And  in  man's  shame  shows  kinship  to  the  gods. 
[While  CALOPHOS  is  speaking,  AEISTON,  arising, 
seizes  an  immense  flacjon  and  drops  into    it 
a  maddening  drug. 

IOLO. 
If  thou  be  right,  yon  flagon  makes  him  Jove  ! 

CALOPHOS. 

Be  quick  !   and  hold  his  hand  ! 

PHILIPPON. 

Wine  proves  us  gods  ! 
Then  let  him  drink,  and  plume  immortal  wings  ! 

CALOPHOS. 

Ariston,  stop  !  'tis  fire  for  thee  and  death ! 
That  drug  burns  to  his  blood,  and  makes  him 

mad ! 

Wrench  quick  the  flagon  from  his  clutch  and  lip  ! 
[They  rush  at  ARISTON,  who  resists,  and 
drives  them  off. 

AEISTON. 

Master,  I  heard  thy  words.     Hail,  sparkling  cup  ! 
Bright  proof  that  we  immortals  yet  shall  be, 
'Tis  heav'n  itself  that  flashes  in  thy  gleam  ! 
Wise  Calophos,  thy  thoughts  have  sober'd  me  ; 
Thou  magic  wine,  gay  daughter  of  the  sun, 
Whose  own  paternal  rays  thy  virtues  dart, 
That  man  may  share  the  nectar  of  the  gods, 
Who  says  a  serpent  coils  round  in  thy  cup, 


AEI8TON.  67 

To  sting  my  sense,  and  reason  blast,  and  joy  ? 
Nay !  'tis  Olympus  bubbles  on  thy  brim. 
Calophos,  I  drink  to  thy  philosophy  ! 

[They  again  seek  to  prevent  AKISTON,  wlio  succeeds 

in  draining  the  flagon,  and  is  excited  after  the 

struggle  into  frenzy. 

ARISTON. 

Immortal  gods  !  my  head  whirls  round  in  fire ! 
Put  out  these  flames  that  blaze  around  my  flesh, 
Crawl  o'er  my  hair,  and  twist  and  hiss  like  snakes 
Oh,  help  ye  !  water  !  help,  and  quench  this  fire  ! 

[HELIA,  the  mother  of  ARISTON,  enters,  silently 
takes  his  hand,  and  subdues  him  at  once. 

AEISTON. 

Mother,  I  own  thy  spell !    Thy  look  of  love 
Goes  to  my  heart  and  cools  my  burning  brain ! 
Lead  where  thou  wilt,  and  I  will  follow  thee  ! 
No  words  !  no  words  !     Thy  silence  rules  my  soul, 
And  speech  but  maddens  me  ! 

[Exit  HELIA  leading  her  son  Inj  the  hand. 

CALOPHOS. 

Maternal  Love ! 

More  is  thy  magic  than  philosophy  ! 
Where  reason  fails,  thy  touch  the  tiger  tames. 
Love,  thou  art  stronger  than  immortal  truth, 
And,  when  states  built  by  force  lie  ghastly  wrecks 
Thou  wilt  in  hearts  earth's  final  empire  throne  ! 


68  AEISTON. 


SCENE  II. — A  room  in  ALCANDER'S  house  at  Athens. 

ALCANDER. 

BROTHER,  Athens  cannot  be  so  base  ; 
Her  honours  on  my  brow  for  twice  ten 

years 
Are  proofs  she  knows  how  much  she  owes  my  love. 

HEROCLES. 

Thy  love  of  her,  Alcander,  or  thyself  ? 
Hast  thou  not  lived  and  blossom'd  on  the  state, 
And  hung  thy  family  tree  with  flow'rs  and  fruits  ? 
Democracies  are  quick  to  read  men  through, 
And  weigh  what  they  deserve  of  good  or  ill, 
While  often  envy  hurls  their  idols  down. 

ALCANDER. 

Herocles,  thou  art  bold,  I  think  too  bold. 
Athens  will  never  dare  to  frown  on  me  ; 
If  she  prove  false,  I'll  pay  her  back  tenfold. 

HEROCLES. 

Ha  !  this  thy  love  !     The  tiger  feed,  a  child 
May  stroke  his  skin ;  keep  back  his  meat,  he  glares, 
And  shows  his  fangs. 

ALCANDER. 

Such  insults  I'll  not  bear  ; 
Nor  shall  the  mob  exile  me  with  the  shell. 


ARISTON.  69 

All  the  best  blood  of  Greece  is  in  our  veins, 
And  from  the  gods  themselves  our  pedigree. 
Thrice  round  my  brow  the  crown  has  hung  its 

leaves, 

While  shook  the  Agora  with  shouts  that  moved 
Athena  throned  on  her  Acropolis. 

HEROCLES. 

The  mountain-tree  invites  the  thunderbolt, 
Which  blazes  harmless  o'er  the  modest  vales. 
Athens,  Alcander, — hast  thou  not  yet  learn'd  ? — 
Just  where  she  most  exalts  she  most  suspects. 
Shrill  envy  hisses  in  her  wildest  praise  ; 
Her  hand  binds  on  the  crown  to  tear  it  off ; 
Her  noblest  worth  she  dooms  to  banishment 
The  warmer  her  embrace  the  blow  more  sure. 

ALCANDER. 

Curse  on  her  mobs  !  they'll  find  in  me  their  match. 
The  snake,  untouch'd,  will  slumber  in  his  coil, 
But,  struck,  darts  venom  through  the  quiv'ring 
flesh. 

HEROCLES. 

Thy  threats  but  prove  thy  heart  to  Greece  most 

false  ; 

True  love  to  her  has  not  its  life  in  self, 
Seeks  not  its  own,  o'er  pride  exalts  the  State, 
And,  like  a  tree  whose  shatter'd  length  lies  low, 
Will  from  old  roots  lift  high  new  boughs  to  heav'n. 


70  ARISTON. 

ALCANDER. 

I've  been  a  fool !  duped  by  the  crowd's  vile  breath. 
Fortune  across  my  sky  has  beam'd  so  bright 
That  I  will  madden  in  the  shades  of  night. 

HEROCLES. 

Who  mounts  on  clouds  towards  the  gilding  sun 
Will  see  his  painted  splendors  turn  to  air, 
And  drop  'mid  crowds,  who  yell  to  see  him  fall. 

ALCANDER. 

Help  me,  ye  gods,  and  keep  me  from  such  wreck  ! 
Yes  !  all  earth's  blessings  leave  behind  a  gloom, 
As  sculptured  figures  crown'd  with  grace  and  light 
Cast  spectral  shadows  in  the  brilliant  sun. 

HEROCLES. 

Thou  art  indeed  above  a  precipice  ; 
Thy  birth  and  dignities  will  bring  the  blow. 
Thy  head  made  for  a  king,  thy  spurning  foot 
And  flashing  eye  awake  the  crowd's  distrust. 
The  men  thy  name  who  shout  thine  exile  mean, 
And  thee  unmake  to  show  from  them  the  power 
Which  Fame  as  thine  doth  trumpet  o'er  the  world. 

ALCANDER. 

Let  Persia,  then,  fix  firm  her  throne  in  Greece  ! 
Better  one  king  than  a  vile  tyrant  crowd. 

HEROCLES. 

The  people  know  thy  heart  inclines  thee  there, 
And  thee  the  shell  will  drive  to  live  with  kings. 


AEISTON.  71 

Yet  those,  mere  children  in  the  Agora, 

Upon  the  battle-field  are  matchless  men, 

Who  Attica  have  wall'd  with  adamant, 

And  Asia's  banner'd  tyrants  have  defied.. 

Our  Athens  shines  the  type  of  that  bright  day 

When  they  who  own  the  State  the  State  shall  sway. 

Enter  Servants,  bearing  AEISTON  on  a  litter,  stupefied 
after  his  debauch,  and  covered  with  a  robe. 

ALCANDER. 

Stop,  knaves  !  what  bear  ye  there  ? 

PIEST  SERVANT. 

We  may  not  tell. 

ALCANDER. 

Tell,  rascals,  tell !  at  once  take  off  that  robe  ! 

SECOND  SERVANT. 

Oh,  master,  pause  !  the  sight  will  stir  thy  rage  ! 

ALCANDER. 

Thou  slave,  obey ! 

[The  Servants  draw  aside  the  robe. 
'Tis  that  doth  pierce  my  pride. 
Our  house's  blot !  Mine  image  on  that  wretch  ! 
My  pedigree  brought  down  from  gods  to  brutes  ! 
Take,  take  the  breathing  infamy  away  ! 

Enter  HELIA. 

HELIA. 

My  Lord,  relent ! 


72  AEISTON. 

ALCANDER. 

H  elia,  behold  thy  son, 

His  features  turn'd  to  loathsomeness  by  wine  ! 
From  thee,  not  me,  the  taint  that  mars  our  name. 

HELIA. 

His  only  hold  on  virtue  is  our  love  : 

But  cut  that  tie,  and  he  will  live  accursed. 

ALCAXDER. 

Once,  ivy-crown'd,  before  the  Parthenon, 
Whose  pillar'd  majesty  might  awe  a  beast, 
I  saw  him  with  his  thyrsus  chasing  boys, 
Who  mock'd  the  staggering  wretch  and  me  his  sire. 

HELIA. 

All  mortals  frail  should  weep  when  mortals  sin  ; 
How,  then,  should  parents  bathe  with  tears  a  son  ? 

ALCANDER. 

His  presence  in  our  house  will  madden  me. 

HELIA  (kneeling  before  ALCANDER). 
Let  pity  move  thy  breast !     Recall  thy  kiss 
First  press'd  on  his  sweet  lips,  the  light  on  thee 
From  his  joy-sparkling  eye,  the  dimpling  smile 
Which  stirr'd  thy  father's  heart,  the  prattled  word 
Whose  music-thrill  awaked  new  worlds  of  love  ; 
His  childhood's  beauty,  and  his  boyhood's  morn  ; 
His  manhood's  glory  which  Apollo's  seem'd, 
And  moved  to  say — "  There  goes  the  pride  of 
Greece ! " 


AEISTON.  73 

Oh,  save  our  son  and  bind  him  to  thy  heart ! 
Exalting  him,  Alcander,  lift  thyself, 
And  kindle  for  our  house  from  gloom  a  light. 
Thy  life  beats  in  his  blood — his  soul  from  thee, 
And  manly  majesty,  which  mirrors  thine  ; 
By  thee  cast  off,  he  wanders  to  despair. 

ALCANDER. 

My  heart  is  touch'd,  and  yet  I  fear  thy  plea ; 
Expell'd  our  roof,  we  purge  off  his  disgrace. 

HBLIA. 

Oh,  what  can  stop  a  mother's  words  of  love  ! 
I  kneel  between  my  son  and  utter  woe, 
One  hand  in  his,  the  other  clasping  thine, 
And  am  'twixt  him  and  thee  a  link  of  life. 
I  kiss  thy  feet,  and  bathe  them  with  my  tears. 
Oh,  in  his  haggard  face  I  beauty  see 
Come  back,  and  hope  and  love  shed  o'er  their 

light. 

He  yet  shall  be  the  glory  of  our  state, 
And  where  he  goes,  to  live  or  die,  I  go : 
With  kisses  on  his  lips  I  seal  my  vow. 

HEROCLES. 

A  mother's  cry,  Alcander,  should  be  heard ; 
The  gods  speak  to  thee  in  these  touching  tears. 

ALCANDER. 

Once  more  I  yield ;  but  my  last  weakness  this ; 
His  next  offence  shall  drive  him  from  my  roof; 


74  AEI8TON. 

We  '11  leave  him  till  he  sleeps  away  his  wine. 
[The  Servants  place  the  role  over  ARISTON,  ivho, 
when  all  have  left,  arises, 

ABISTON. 

Her  tones  of  love  have  brought  me  to  myself. 
A  tranquil  glory  lingers  round  this  spot, 
Like  beams  when  radiant  gods  leave  earth  for  heav'n. 
A  presence  here,  that  bathes  me  in  its  light, 
My  manhood  wakes,  and  gilds  my  future  o'er. 
Oh,  matchless  magic  of  a  mother's  love, 
Which  sees  in  midnight  day,  hope  in  despair, 
In  death  itself  the  promise  of  new  life, 
And  him  whom  Heav'n  gives  o'er  wins  back  with 

tears. 

O  man,  thy  heart  how  cold,  how  sharp,  how  hard  ! 
'Tis  ice,  'tis  stone,  'tis  steel,  'tis  adamant, 
While  woman's  love  will  soften  Pluto's  realm  ! 

Enter  CALOPHOS. 
Master,  hast  thou  thine  angel  ever  seen  ? 

CALOPHOS. 

'Tis  to  my  soul  and  not  mine  eye  he  speaks. 
When  I  in  darkness  sink  beneath  life's  load, 
A  whisper  shows  my  path,  a  hand  clasps  mine 
To  hold  me  up,  and  light  shines  on  my  steps. 

ARISTOX. 

My  guide  is  flesh'd,  is  seen,  is  touch'd,  is  heard ; 


AEISTON.  75 

A  shape  which  glides  in  beauty  to  my  side, 
To  drop  a  tear,  and  then  like  virtue  smile. 

CALOPHOS. 

Is  this  thy  jest  ? 

AEISTON. 

Not  so,  my  Calophos  ; 
In  thee  I  own  a  power  that  lifts  thee  up, 
And  helps  thee  climb  where  others  blinded  crawl — 
A  Guide  invisible  who  leads  thee  on. 

CALOPHOS. 

'Tis  true  as  that  there  is  a  voice  in  winds, 

In  light  a  life  that  folds  our  world  with  bloom, 

Or  that  in  man  which  yearns  to  ever  be. 

AEISTON. 

Dost  thou  remember,  Calophos,  the  day, 
When  in  the  fight,  beneath  my  boyish  arm, 
Nine  soldiers  fell,  and  lay  piled  round  in  heaps, 
Helm  upon  helm,  and  shield  on  shatter'd  shield, 
While  I  stood  wounded  on  the  slipp'ry  ground, 
My  corselet  cleft,  a  spear  thrust  in  my  breast, 
O'er  all  my  armour  blood,  and  reel'd  my  brain 
And  steps  ?    Now  in  mine  ear  that  battle-roar — 
Now  swift  I  see  thee  come,  strike  right  and  left, 
Then  snatch  me  from  my  foes,  and  bear  me  off, 
As  Troy's  great  hero  saved  his  sire  from  flames. 

CALOPHOS. 

My  back  can  feel  thee  now  press  on  it  sore  ! 


76  A  BIS  TON. 

Jove  !  how  thy  dangling  legs  struck  on  my  h'eels, 
As,  breathless,  I  went  stagg'ring  'neath  my  load ! 

ARISTON. 

Well,  Calophos,  not  in  that  thick  of  death, 
That  clash  of  meeting  swords,  that  ring  of 

shields, 

The  tramp,  the  groans,  the  shouts  of  battle's  hell, 
Where  ghosts  flew  shrieking  o'er  the  pain  and 

blood, 

Was  I  so  weak,  so  lost,  as  here  and  now. 
I  am  a  slave — a  mean,  ignoble  slave — 
Slave  to  myself — slave  to  the  foe  I  hate. 
I  vow  to  break  my  chain,  and  tighten  it ; 
I  curse  the  cup,  and  press  it  to  my  lips  ; 
I  loathe  the  serpent's  cold  and  snaky  coil, 
Yet  clasp  it  round  my  flesh !  the  fang  invite 
Whose  poison-fire  burns  in  my  madden'd  brain, 
To  wake  its  hissing  phantoms  twisting  round. 
But  a  new  strength  is  in  me,  Calophos  ! 
Not  from  thy  words,  though  wise ;  not  from  thy 

school, 
Whose  fame  will  gild  o'er  time ;  not  from  our 

gods, 

Whose  revels  make  Olympus  worse  than  earth. 
Spurning  the  laws  of  custom  and  of  sex, 
My  Mother's  Love  has  search'd  me  in  my  haunts  ; 
In  crowd  and  street  has  lifted  me  from  earth, 


AEISTON.  77 

To  thrill  me  with  its  touch,  its  tone,  its  look, 
Till  in  my  flesh  its  virtue  seems  infused, 
And  through  my  soul  a  power  above  mine  own 
By  which  I  know  I  yet  shall  be  a  man. 


SCEXE  III. — A  S  anqueting-room  in  Athens;  the 
guests,  garlanded,  recline  around  the  table;  ARTS- 
TON  presiding. 

IOLO. 

,  folly  'tis  to  make  a  feast, 
And  touch  no  cup, — Athens  will  laugh  at 
thee. 

PHILIPPON. 

To  Cupid  drink,  or  on  thy  festal  throne 
He'll  strike  thee  howling  with  a  thistle-spear; 
And  bees  will  leave  their  bloom  to  sting  thee  off. 

AR1STIPPUS. 

To  Bacchus  drink,  or  he'll  draw  out  thy  ears ; 
Old  Pan  shall  stride  thy  back,  and  with  his  hoofs 
Punch  in  thy  sides,  while  Fauns  and  Dryads  pierce 
With  swords  of  thorn,  and  twist  thee  round  with 
vines. 

AEISTON. 

Excuse  me,  friends  !  I  pray  this  once,  excuse  ! 

IOLO. 
Ariston,  nay  !  quick  !  pledge  us  in  a  cup  ! 


78  AEISTON. 

ARISTON  (pours  oui  some  wine  and  holds  it  before 

a  lamp). 

I  would  not  cloud,  my  friends,  our  festival, 
And  yet  ye  drive  me  into  serious  words. 

PHILIPPON. 

Ariston,  cease,  nor  cast  round  us  thy  gloom  ! 

ARISTON. 

How  bright  this  cup  !   Behold,  its  sparkles  dance 
And  flash  their  joy  !     Oh,  burns  my  thirsting  lip 
But  for  a  drop !    My  soul  grows  mad  to  rush 
And  quench  its  flames,  and  lose  in  wine  its  woe ; 
Yet  there  an  adder  coils  whose  sting  is  death, 
And  sleeping  there  may  lie  eternal  pangs. 
My  friends,  one  slightest  sip  would  ruin  me  ; 
Would  set  my  blood  on  fire,  palsy  my  will, 
And  craze  my  brain,  till  I  a  fiend  would  rave. 
I  will  not  touch,  but  triumph  o'er  myself, 
And  feel  the  manhood  of  a  conquering  soul. 
Now  see  before  your  eyes  how  hard  for  slaves 
From  Pleasure's  gilded  chains  to  burst  away  ! 

[Persons  representing  the  deities  of  Greece  enter. 
JUPITER  OLYMPIUS,  ivith  his  sceptre,  takes  his 
throne,  his  eagle  at  his  feet,  and  at  his  side 
JUNO,  under  a  rainbow,  ^vith  her  peacock.  On 
one  side  stand  BACCHUS,  VENUS,  and  CUPID, 
with  PAN,  and  his  Fauns  and  Satyrs,  ichile  no 


ARISTON.  79 

the  other  are  APOLLO,  DIANA,  and  MAES,  with 

the  Muses,  Nymphs,  and  Graces. 

JUPITER. 

The  majesty  of  lieav'n  and  earth,  I  come 
To  hear  your  songs,  and  victory  award. 
I,  who  Olympus  rule  and  deathless  gods, 
Grasp  here  my  thunderbolt,  while  at  my  feet 
Yon  kingly  bird,  whose  gaze  is  o'er  the  world, 
Type  of  my  high  and  universal  sway. 
Juno,  my  queen,  sits,  glitt'ring  round  with  light, 
While  that  bright  thing  of  eyes,  in  colours  gay, 
Stands  by  her  side,  and  her  omniscience  shows. 
First,  Bacchus,  thine  immortal  song  we'll  hear  ! 

BACCHUS. 

When  young  Spring  breathes  and  curls  the  vine, 
I  watch  its  root ; 
And  bud  and  shoot, 
And  grape  and  mantling  leaf  are  mine. 
From  trunk  to  twig  I  make  glad  juices  run, 
Till  glows  the  landscape  purpling  in  the  sun. 

Now  Fauns  and  Satyrs  sing,  and  bless  ! 
Pan,  tune  thy  pipe  ! 
The  world  is  ripe  ; 

Those  hanging  clusters  pull  and  press  ! 
Around  the  earth  let  bursting  currents  flow, 
And  shouts  attest  to  Heav'n  our  joy  below. 


80  AEISTON. 

My  crowns  of  ivy  weave,  and  bring  ! 
Let  Age  and  Care 
Our  banquet  share, 

And  foaming  wine-cups  sparkles  fling, 
And  kings  and  beggars  swell  the  festal  cry, 
And  gods  for  joy  on  earth  forsake  the  sky  ! 

JUPITER. 

Apollo,  king  of  day,  respond  in  song  ! 

APOLLO. 

Nay  !  bend  the  noble  bow  ! 
The  graceful  quiver  take, 
Let  nerve  and  muscle  grow  ; 
Let  strength  your  courage  make  ; 
And  thus  on  form  and  brow  impress 
The  majesty  of  manliness. 

Then  strike  the  sounding  lyre 

Till  your  broad  bosoms  thrill, 

And  every  pulse  is  fire, 

And  deathless  grows  the  will ! 

Soon  Greece  will  crown  you  in  the  game 

With  laurels  of  eternal  fame. 

See  round  my  head  these  rays  ! 
I  who  the  sun-steeds  guide, 


ARISTON.  81 

The  earth,  the  heaven  make  blaze, 
And  life  in  light  provide, 
I  counsel  you  to  turn  from  wine, 
And  in  the  beams  of  virtue  shine. 

JUPITEE. 

Haste,  Beauty's  Queen,  and  try  thy  tuneful  tongue. 

VENUS. 

Kiss'd  by  the  morn  from  the  foam  of  the  sea 

As  I  slept  on  its  wave, 
Bright  Beauty  her  glory  threw  over  me, 

And  I  smiled  as  she  gave. 

Oh,  soon  in  my  breast  glow'd  love  with  his  fire, 
And  quick  quiver'd  the  thrill 

That  conquers  e'en  Jove,  the  all-ruling  sire, 
Whom  I  lead  at  my  will. 

Immortals  fly  forth  my  train  to  attend, 
And  where  brightens  my  face 

Olympus  will  rush  its  cycles  to  spend 
In  my  beauty's  embrace. 

JUPITEE. 

Pare  as  a  summer  moon,  Diana,  sing  ! 

DIANA. 

Red  midnight  comets  from  their  blazing  hair 
Will  drop  down  horror  on  the  waken'd  earth ; 

And  guilty  pleasures,  like  their  fatal  glare, 
Start  only  woe  and  terror  into  birth. 
G 


82  AEISTON. 

"Tis  I  who  rule  in  peace  the  virgin-moon, 

Calm  type  of  lawful  wedlock's  cloudless  bliss  ; 

Oh,  at  the  marriage-altar  seek  life's  boon, 
And  find  the  purest  joy  in  virtue's  kiss  ! 

When  bow  and  quiver  on  my  shoulder  press, 
As  I  at  morn  may  brush  the  sparkling  dew, 

Oft  smiling  will  I  pause  your  home  to  bless, 
And  richest  mercies  o'er  your  life  will  strew. 

JUPITER. 

Quick,  merry  Cupid,  charm  us  with  thy  lay  ! 

CUPID. 

The  rose  my  home, 
My  boat  a  shell, 
O'er  earth  I  roam, 

To  cast  my  spell ; 

And  when  above  the  clouds  I  seek  to  fly, 
These  radiant  wings  will  bear  me  to  the  sky. 

My  head  beams  light, 

My  heart  thrills  love, 
And  all  things  bright 

Wake  where  I  move  ! 

And  Heaven  bends  down  to  take  me  with  a  smile, 
Since  my  small  arrows  men  and  gods  beguile. 

Make  bare  thy  heart ! 
I  twang  my  bow, 


ARISTON.  \ 

Whose  pointed  dart 
Kules  all  below  ! 

And  e'en  immortals,  when  I  make  them  dream, 
Too  brief  will  find  eternal  cycles  seem. 

JUPITER. 

Great  God  of  battles,  peal  thy  note  of  war  ! 

MAES. 

Nay !  clash  the  helm  and  shield ! 
Brass-armour' d  seek  the  field  ! 
The  battle-spear  swift  hurl, 
Where  chariots  flame  and  whirl ! 
Prize  on  your  face  the  scars 
That  make  you  dear  to  Mars  ! 

Your  country  served,  return 
When  cease  war's  fires  to  burn  ; 
Find  deathless  your  renown, 
If  Greece  shall  bind  the  crown, 
And  o'er  a  grateful  land 
Shall  make  your  statues  stand. 

Where  burns  my  martial  strife, 
Seek  there  the  strength  of  life  ; 
In  Heaven's  eternal  plan 
But  battle  makes  the  man, 
And  brightens  on  the  sky 
His  immortality. 


84  ARI8TON. 

JUPITER. 

Valour  and  Virtue  here  have  won  the  prize, 
In  noble  strains  that  please  both  earth  and  Heaven. 
But  see  in  this  world's  clay  the  grace  of  gods  ! 
Immortal  glory  shrined  in  mortal  form  ! 
'Tis  Hercules,  whom  painted  Pleasure  lures, 
While  smiling  Virtue  stands,  and  points  to  Heaven. 

Enter  HERCULES,  preceded  ly  PLEASURE  and  VIRTUE, 

wlio  in  pantomime  enter  in  opposite  directions. 
As  Passion  stirs  within  her  flames,  he  stops  : 
But  leaves,  at  Duty's  call,  the  flowers  of  vice, 
And  climbs  up  Virtue's  safe  but  rugged  steep, 
While  over  him  burst  forth  celestial  strains. 

[Exeunt  gods  and  their  attendants  amid 
triumphant  music. 

ARISTON. 

My  friends,  ye  saw  the  struggles  of  my  soul 

In  this  bright  pageant  acted  to  your  gaze  ; 

As  ye  heard  Good  and  Evil  strive  in  song 

So  Vice  and  Virtue  battled  for  my  life, 

And  kept  unfix'd  my  ever-devious  will. 

None  longer  linger'd  in  the  revel's  blaze, 

None  oft'ner  sipp'd  the  bloom  of  honey'd  love, 

None  deeper  quaff'd  mad  joys  from  each  full  cup ; 

But  now  I  feel  another  destiny ; 

I'll  burst  the  coils  that  wind  around  my  soul, 


ARISTON.  8. 

And  hurl  away  this  thirsting  Cerberus ; 

In  toil,  in  peril  win  my  fair  name  back, 

To  Athens  and  to  Freedom  give  my  life, 

And  place  my  image  in  the  Agora 

Crown'd  with  the  light  of  an  immortal  worth. 

Or,  should  I  fall  unpitied  by  the  gods, 

Since  ye,  my  friends,  will  never  know  my  grave, 

To  plant  a  cypress  o'er  my  exiled  dust, 

Let  memory  with  a  tear  blot  out  my  faults  ! 


ACT    II. 

SCENE  I. — A  Garden  in  Athens  in  view  of  the  sea, 
and  the  Acropolis. 

ARISTON. 

ATHENA  glows  on  her  Acropolis, 
And  seems  to  sit  a  goddess  in  the  sun, 
Whose  lingering  glory  turns  her  form 

to  flame, 

And  flashes  from  her  spear,  while  opposite, 
The  moon  is  lifting  from  the  sea  her  face 
Bound,  calm,  and  full ;  and  near,  the  star  of  love 
Looks  bright  as  Eos  when  he  eyes  the  gods, 
And  from  her  urn  of  light  drops  peace  on  earth. 


86  AEISTON. 

Now  trembling  into  heav'n  are  night's  pure  lamps 
Which  burn  from  age  to  age,  a  mystery. 
A  breath  of  flowers  is  in  the  evening  air, 
And  as  the  moonbeams  slant  along  the  grass 
The  crimson  of  the  rose  is  turn'd  to  gold, 
And  shadows  spread  their  silence  o'er  my  heart, 
While  passion's  waves  sink  gentle  as  this  dew, 
And  reason  bathes  my  soul  in  calm  resolve. 
My  Ino,  come — than  yon  starr'd  blue  that  round 
Enspheres  the  world,  more  sweet  and  pure  thy  love 
Which  circles  me,  and  smiles  my  canopy. 

Enter  INO. 

INO. 
Found,  truant,  found ! 

AEISTON. 

Then  for  thy  pay  a  kiss  ! 

INO. 

Not  yet,  bad  boy  !   my  lips  refuse  to  touch 
Till  heart  and  ear  are  both  appeased  by  thee. 

AEISTON. 

In  me  what  fault,  my  girl  ? 

INO. 

In  thee  what  fault  ? 

Why,  like  some  school-boy  thou  art  running  off, 
Or  a  base  fellow  who  has  plunder'd  shrines, 
Or  sold  our  Athens  for  a  traitor's  gold ! 


ARISTON.  87 

Is  it  a  man  who  will  from  perils  fly  ? 
Stand  where  thou  art  and  fight !     Ariston,  stand  ! 
And  kisses  thou  shalt  have  from  lips  of  mine 
More  than  the  rose-leaves,  or  the  smiles  of  spring, 
The  notes  of  birds,  and  beams  of  summer  moons. 

ARISTON. 

I'm  in  no  mood  for  jokes,  but  sad  as  sighs  ! 
Before  me  is  a  battle  long  and  hard. 

INO. 

"Pis  not  in  gloom  dwells  the  most  fix'd  resolve ; 
The  bird  that  brightest  carols  o'er  its  nest 
Fights  for  its  brood  when  ravens  croak  and  fly. 
Our  smiles  more  than  our  tears  help  on  the  will, 
And  the  gay  laugh  gives  vigour  to  the  thought ; 
We  mortals,  like  the  earth,  must  have  the  sun. 

ARISTON. 

'Tis  so,  my  girl,  and  thou,  morn's  purest  ray, 
Hast  follow'd  me  as  circling  light  the  gods. 

INO. 

'Twas  Heav'n  lent  me  its  strength,  and  whisper'd 

hope. 

Behold  yon  oak  wave  o'er  the  moon  its  boughs, 
While  earth  is  glad  to  see  the  child  she  bears  ! 
This  towering  tree  once  in  an  acorn  slept, 
Amid  decay  and  circled  by  the  worm  ; 
Yet  from  that  seed  this  giant  majesty. 
Thus  thou  shalt  stand  aloft,  the  pride  of  Greece. 


88  ARISTON. 

AKISTON. 

May  all  good  gods  smile  on  thy  prophecy ! 
E'en  more  than  they  are  thou  and  Helia  true. 
Oh  woman's  love  !  it  seems  a  silver'd  thread 
Bent  down  by  dews,  and  trembling  to  the  stars 
Beneath  some  fairy's  foot,  and  yet  has  strength 
More  than  a  cable's  cords  to  anchor  man 
On  Virtue's  rock  when  midnight  perils  roar. 

INO. 

And  yet  Ariston  from  his  helpers  flies, 

Leaves  those  he  loves,  and  turns  their  eyes  to 

tears, 
Tearing  the  ties  which  clasp  to  him  their  hearts. 

ARISTON. 

I  tell  thee,  girl,  my  chain  is  snapp'd,  my  foe 
Beneath  my  feet,  while  stands  my  will  like  rock. 
Yet  still  in  Athens,  'mid  old  scenes  and  friends, 
I  seem  a  thing  upon  the  whirlpool's  edge, 
That  circles  round,  imperill'd,  not  engulph'd. 
As  age  the  cheek,  vice  wrinkles  o'er  the  soul, 
Leaves  scars  and  wounds,  and  wild  and  burning 

thoughts, 

And  voids,  and  hellsbehind.   Its  dead  worms  gnaw, 
While  its  pale  ghosts  haunt  shivering  night  and 

day. 

Oh,  terrible  the  war  !     Old  habits  cling 
Like  centipedes,  and  burrow  in  the  flesh, 


ARISTON.  89 

And  taint  the  blood.     They  must  be  weeded  out 

As  interlacing  roots  that  gardens  spoil, 

And  this  takes  time,  and  toil,  and  smiles  from  gods. 

By  Heaven's  high  help  I'll  make  my  life  anew 

'Mid  other  lands,  and  when  my  soul  grows  strong, 

Transfigured  in  the  glory  virtue  gives, 

I'll  bring  it  back  to  Athens  and  to  thee. 

But  see,  draws  near  what  figure  robed  in  black  ? 

INO. 

Thy  mother  comes ! 

ARISTON. 

Ye  gods,  can  this  be  she, 
With  frenzy  in  her  eye,  while  sadness  sits 
Pale  on  her  face,  the  sister  of  despair  ? 
Yon  solemn  moon  ne'er  shone  on  such  a  wreck. 
[HELIA,  who  has  been  in  the  distance,  approaches, 
with  CALOPHOS  behind  her  unnoticed. 

HELIA. 

Oh,  he  has  gone  !  my  son,  my  son,  my  son  ! 
Jove  bore  him  off  and  left  me  lone  and  sad  ; 
My  poor  heart  aches  till  he  gives  back  my  boy. 
Quick  !  take  its  weight  away,  or  I  will  die ! 
0  moon !    on  thy  bright  feet  bring  down  my  son, 
Or  let  me  go  to  him  from  this  dark  earth. 

ARISTON. 

Oh  !   mother,  he  is  here — thy  son  behold ; 
Ye  gods,  have  pity  on  our  suffering  house  ! 


90  ARISTON. 

HELIA  (sings). 
My  boy  is  in  the  sky, 

Jove  took  him  there ; 
Lone  in  this  world  I  cry, 

Despair,  despair  ! 

My  head  is  all  a-fire, 

My  life  a  sea 
Whose  billows  never  tire 

In  beating  me. 

Oh  !   help  me,  moon,  to  thee. 

Quick  !  I  will  fly, 
My  boy,  my  boy  to  see, 

Or  die — or  die. 

ARISTON. 

Her  sorrow  breaks  my  heart !  speak,  Ino,  speak ! 
Touch  her  dear  hand  with  thine  and  lead  her  off ! 

INO. 

Our  Helia,  come  !  do  thou  with  Ino  come  ! 

HELTA. 

I'll  follow  thee  to  Jove,  and  find  my  boy. 

[Exit  HELIA,  led  away  ~by  INO,  while 

CALOPHOS  remains. 
ARISTON. 

Oh  !  Calophos,  my  path  leads  o'er  her  heart ! 
My  absence  crazes  her  !  'tis  hard,  too  hard  ! 


ARISTON.  91 

CALOPHOS. 

Not  this  alone,  but  life  itself  is  hard — 
Spun  forth  by  tearless  Fates,  blind  in  their  work  ; 
Else,  dropp'd  their  threads,  would  being  cease  to  be. 
Through  this  wild  maze  the  right  alone  can  guide. 

AEISTON. 

The  seed  I  sow'd  I  reap  !    Let  Vice  once  grow, 
And  soon  his  spoil'd  and  roguish  ways  he  drops, 
To  plant  down  on  his  slaves  a  tyrant  foot, 
Leer  out  from  bloodshot  eyes,  and  cut  the  flesh, 
Till  we  must  fly,  and  leave  his  serpent-stings. 

CALOPHOS. 

Better  to  fly  than  feel  again  his  lash. 

AKISTON. 

My  path  to  virtue  winds  o'er  rocks,  along 
The  chasm's  edge,  up  to  the  light  of  Heaven ! 

CALOPHOS. 

Thy  lips  are  guards,  not  sluices  to  thy  soul ; 
Hence  will  I  say  what  else  would  risk  my  life. 
"Who  touch  her  gods  will  Athens  hemlock  give, 
And  yet  my  son  will  seek  their  aid  in  vain. 
There  is  a  Power,  of  all  cause,  law,  and  soul, 
Who,  like  the  air  embracing  round  our  world, 
Wide  nature  folds  with  universal  life — 
And  breathes  new  strength  in  those  who  seek  the 

right, 
And  gives  new  eyes  to  see  the  paths  of  light. 


92  AE1STON. 

To  Him  we  follow  truth,  as  to  the  sun 
We  track  the  beams  which  shine  in  darkest  caves, 
Or  glance  their  gladness  on  the  poor  man's  hut, 
Or  flash  in  glory  round  the  towers  of  kings. 

ARISTON. 

As  some  sweet  spirit  of  the  viewless  air 
Will  toss  our  words  across  from  hill  to  hill, 
And  tell  them  oft  in  murmurs  dying  far, 
Long  have  thy  thoughts  been  echoes  in  my  soul. 
These  make  the  groves  of  Plato  musical, 
As  float  celestial  notes  'mid  earth's  wild  din, 
Soft  as  the  blue  through  thunder- warring  clouds. 
Plumes  in  my  breast  some  new  immortal  wing 
Whose  strength  will  bear  me  up  to  that  sole  Power 
Whose  guiding  voice  within  thine  angel  is! 
All-arm'd  in  his  bright  mail  I  onward  go, 
And  will  for  Athens  win  a  conquer'd  soul. 


SCENE  II. — The  Court  of  Persia. 

KIXG. 
iREEKS,  I  thought,  stranger,  never  bent  to 

kings ! 
Yet  thou  dost  like  my  eunuch  kiss  my  feet. 

ALCANDER. 

'Tis  best  to  act  as  those  with  whom  we  live, 
And  hence,  0  king,  my  Persian  garb  and  ways. 


ARISTON.  93 

KING. 

Nay !  thou  art  here  to  sell  thy  land  for  gold,. 
And  hurl  thy  selfish  vengeance  back  on  Greece  ; 
With  this  thine  end  to  this  thine  acts  conform. 
We  must  each  other  know  without  a  veil. 

ALCANDEK. 

Athens  my  life  forgot,  and  banish'd  me ; 

'Tis  hence  thy  royal  power  I'd  plant  in  Greece, 

Which  should  prefer  thy  throne  to  rabble  rule. 

KING. 

Ha !  thy  pure  hope  and  wish  to  bless  thy  state 
Which  I  did  deem  thee  here  to  sell  to  me  ? 
Sole  is  thy  aim  to  save  immortal  Greece 
From  tyrant  mobs,  and  not  avenge  thyself  ? 
Yet  say,  had  not  the  state  thine  exile  made, 
Who  more  than  thee  had  stood  against  our  arms? 
Thy  rage  has  moved  to  draw  us  on  to  Attica, 
And  with  our  Persian  armies  scourge  thy  land. 
A  traitor  thus  will  veil  his  reason's  eye 
To  make  his  head  false  as  he  knows  his  heart. 

ALCANDER. 

0  King,  with  insults  thou  hast  met  my  plans. 
Beneath  a  monarch's  robe  a  Grecian  sword 
May  find  a  Persian  heart. 
KING. 

'Tis  what  I  thought. 
He,  selling  Greece,  will  murder  him  who  buys — 


94  ABI8TON. 

Cold  as  tlie  gold  he  grasps,  or  hot  his  rage 
As  his  own  treason  serves. 

ALCANDEE. 

0  King,  I'll  go- 
No  Grecian  can  endure  thy  Persian  pride. 
Before  I  know  this  blade  will  leap  to  thee. 

KING. 

Stand,  traitor,  stand !  thou  hast  no  more  a  will ! 

Stay  there  thou  must,  and  do  thy  proffer 'd  work. 

Move  not  a  space  wide  as  a  hair  above 

Thy  false  and  plotting  brain !  Around  my  throne 

These  glittering  spears  cry,  thirsting  for  thy  blood ! 

Who  barters  off  the  soil  that  gave  him  birth 

No  country  has,  nor  can  have  friends ; 

Cursed  by  the  sold,  and  scorn'd  by  those  who  buy 

— A  mean  and  loathsome  waif  upon  the  world — 

The  traitor  can  own  nought  save  his  black  heart. 

ALCANDEE. 

I  will  not  hear  this  more,  but  leave  thy  court. 

KING. 

First  sign  this  bond  !  this  bond  shall  have  thy  name ! 

ALCANDEE. 

I  will  not  sign  ! 

KING. 

Sign,  Grecian,  sign  thou  shalt ! 

ALCANDEE. 

Nay !  I  will  tear  the  deed,  and  fling  about 


AU  1ST  ON.  93 

Thy  throne  its  rent  and  scatter'd  parts, 
And  tell  thee  to  thy  face  I  will  not  sign  ! 

KING. 

Brave  Greek,  we  '11  see  !     Guards,  draw  around 

this  wretch  ! 

A  hundred  naked  points  flash  in  thine  eyes  ! 
Thy  name,  quick,  down  thy  name  !    Come  closer, 

slaves ! 

I  see  he  likes  not  this  bright  gleam  of  steel  ! 
Alcander,  'tis  thy  bond,  drawn  by  thyself, 
Which  pledges  thee  to  give  o'er  Greece  to  me 
When  I  to  thee  ten  talents  pay  in  gold. 
The  money  there,  now  make  thy  pact  complete ! 

ALCANDER. 

Forced  by  thy  swords,  my  name  would  hold  me  not. 

KING. 

That  risk  I  take,  'tis  thine  to  sign  the  bond. 

ALCANDER: 

Circled  by  guards  with  swords  aim'd  at  my  heart, 
I  write  my  name,  but  not  my  faith  I  give.  • 

[ALCANDER  signs. 
KING. 

Wretch,  thou  art  ours  !  thy  flesh,  thy  soul  are  ours ! 
Go  home  to  Greece  !  thy  deed  will  follow  thee  ! 
Thy  name,  subscribed  by  thee,  to  Athens  sent, 
Will  be  our  mortgage  on  thy  treacherous  neck, 
And  make  thee  do,  our  slave,  what  thou  wilt  loathe ; 


96  AEISTON. 

Though  far  away  will  move  the  hand  we  buy, 
To  open  to  our  gold  the  gates  of  Greece  : 
Or  else  will  give  thy  carcass  to  the  mob, 
And  bring  thy  brother  vultures  on  thy  flesh, 
Clouding  thy  house  with  an  eternal  shame. 
We  cannot  love,  but  we  can  use  thee,  Greek  ! 
Thy  land  we  hate  where  we  our  armies  lost ; 
Our  shatter'd  ships  yet  lie  along  your  shores  ; 
Your  temple-shrines  our  plunder'd  trophies  deck, 
And  we  will  pluck  them  thence  by  force  or  guile. 
Thee  we  despise  !  thy  race  for  ever  hate, 
Which,  unsubdued,  will  overthrow  all  kings, 
And  give  this  world  to  lawless  liberty. 
We  will  pour  over  Greece,  weak  by  thy  gifts, 
A  Persian  deluge  as  when  ocean  heaves 
Itself  on  shore,  or  heav'n  falls  down  in  floods. 
'Tis  thus  we  hold  thee  in  the  grasp  of  fate  ; 
Here  Persian  spears,  and  there  the  Grecian's  hate. 
[Exeunt  KIXG  and  Courtiers. 

ALCANDEE. 

What  line  can  fathom  my  deep  infamy  ? 

My  past,  how  bright  it  shows  'mid  this  lone  gloom  ! 

Thine  image,  Athens,  shines  most  beautiful ! 

New  glory  rests  on  thine  Acropolis  ! 

Thine  Agora's  immortal  shapes  how  fair  ! 

Athena's  form  towers  o'er  her  Parthenon, 

And  in  his  temple  Jove  majestic  sits. 


ARISTON.  97 

My  home  seems  smiling  in  the  morning  light. 
Oh,  eyes,  but  weep,  till  vengeance  stops  your  dew  ! 
The  husband  loves  the  bride  who  charm'd  his  youth, 
Yet,  stain'd  by  her  his  bed,  will  choke  her  cries, 
Will  rend  with  steel  the  form  he  half  adores, 
And  drop  his  tears  down  in  the  blood  he  sheds. 
Athens,  the  more  I  loved,  the  more  I  loathe. 
On  earth  for  me  from  hence  nor  home,  nor  grave  ! 
For  me  in  eyes  no  tears,  in  hands  but  death  ; 
Around  me  roll  wild  seas  of  gore  and  gloom  ; 
Stung  ever  onward  to  the  doom  I  dread — 
Afraid  to  live  and  more  afraid  to  die. 
To  my  sold  soul  is  left  its  one  dire  work — 
By  Persian  swords  to  draw  forth  Grecian  blood, 
And  quench  the  fires  of  an  eternal  hate. 


ACT    III. 

SCENE  I. — A  Grove  between  the  Grecian  and  the 
Persian  camps. 

ALCANDER. 

j  E  Gods,  is  this  my  doom  ?  In  Athens  I 
Dragg'd  to  the  light  the  crew  who 

barter 'd  off 

Themselves  for  bribes — vermin  fixed  on  the  state 
To  suck  its  blood  into  their  bloated  flesh, 
H 


98  AEISTON. 

And  who  outhunger  the  hyena's  maw. 

I  loathed  the  wretch  who  sold  his  soul,  then 

fawn'd 

For  higher  bids.     Yet  now,  by  Persia  bought, 
Black  spectral  fingers  reach  across  the  sea, 
And  with  my  bond  forever  lash  me  on. 
0  Greece,  thy  stones  cry  out  against  my  sin  ! 
Thy  waving  banners  flaunt  it  to  the  winds ; 
The  swords  of  heroes  flash  it  in  mine  eyes  ! 
The  seas  in  midnight  yells  fierce  roar  it  forth ; 
The  hills  to  hills  shout  my  dire  treason  back, 
And  the  still  stars,  and  the  great  sun  look  down 
On  me  in  scorn — so  paid  my  pride  and  rage ! 

Enter  a  Persian  emissary  in  a  Grecian  yarb. 
Who  goes  there  ?  stand ! 

PERSIAN. 

I  come  from  Persia's  king. 

ALCANDER. 

Ho  !  guard  !  a  spy  ! 

PERSIAN. 

Be  still,  or  thou  art  dead  ! 

ALCANBER. 

Thou  art  but  mad  !     So  near  our  camp,  my  word 
Would  flash  around  thy  heart  ten  thousand  spears. 

PERSIAN. 

Behold  this  scroll  !  it  is  thy  pass  to  me ! 


ARISTON.  99 

ALCAXDEE. 

I  know  thee  not — 'tis  false  ! 
PEESIAX. 

'Tis  true,  base  Greek  ! 

ALCANDEE. 

What  ?  this  to  me,  and  here  ?  I'll  have  thj  life  ! 

PEBSIAX. 

Put  up  thy  sword,  and  then  this  parchment  note 
Which  will  ward  off  from  me  all  Greece,  and  thee  ; 
Nay  !  it  would  stir  yon  camp  of  thine  to  storm, 
And  bring  an  army's  fury  on  thy  head. 

ALCANDEB. 

Thy  riddles  cease,  and  tell  what  tempts  thee  here  ! 

PERSIAN. 

This  is  thy  bond,  which  has  thy  name  and  seal ! 
Redeem  thy  promise  to  the  king  of  kings  ! 
Take  this  our  gold  which  here  I  bring  to  thee, 
Your  allies  buy,  and  give  Greece  to  our  arms  ! 

ALCALDES. 

Slave  !  hand  thou  me  my  bond,  or  feel  my  sword  ! 
Here  I  will  tear  to  shreds  my  treason's  proof, 
And  give  its  infamy  to  scattering  winds. 
My  bond,  or  death  ! 

PERSIAN. 

False  Greek,  be  not  too  fast ! 
This  is  a  copy  of  thy  treasonous  pact, 
And  if  destroy'd,  out  from  the  royal  chest 


100  AEI8TON. 

Would  leap  thy  bond,  thy  ghost  that  haunts  thy 

life, 
To  scare   thy  dreams,  and    hurl    all   Greece    on 

thee. 

I  dare  the  blow  that  on  thyself  would  fall, 
And  give  thy  body  to  the  vulture's  beak 
Cast  out  on  lonely  shores,  and  send  thy  soul 
To  shriek  and  shiver  'mid  the  mocking  shades. 
Receive  this  gold,  and  with  it  do  our  work  ! 

ALCAXDER. 

In  evil  hour,  compell'd  by  flashing  swords, 
On  Persia's  hostile  soil,  I  wrote  my  name. 
But  slight  the  deed  and  dire  the  penalty  ! 
Te  gods,  no  place  of  pardon  to  my  tears  ? 

PERSIAN. 

See  thou  to  that !  'tis  ours  to  claim  our  due. 
But  tell  the  Greeks  our  weapons  forced  thy 

name, 

And  made  a  coward  sell  to  us  their  land ; 
This,  more  than  treason  would  arouse  their  rage. 
[AEISTOX  and  Ixo  are  seen  in  the  distance. 
Behold  thy  chief !     Ha,  now  thy  colour  flies  ! 
One  word  of  mine  to  him  will  seal  thy  doom  ! 
Thy  bond  fulfil,  or  die ! 

ALCANDER. 

Soft,  Persian,  soft ! 

In  yonder  wood  we  will  talk  o'er  our  plans  ! 
I'll  take  thy  gold;  yon  boy  and  Greece  I  hate  ! 


ARISTON.  101 

To  ruin  them,  'till  death  I  am  thy  slave. 

[ALCANDER  and  the  Persian  ivithdraiv,  wJiih 
ARISTON  and  INO  enter  together. 

1NO. 

Ere  thou  left  Greece,  when  training  for  the  games, 
What  rosy  boy  did  serve  thee  in  thy  tent  ? 

ARISTON. 

Ino,  what  dost  thou  mean  ?  thou  knew'st  him  not. 

INO. 

With  grace  he  brush'd  thy  robes  and  comb'd  thy 

curls, 

And  kept,  'mid  summer's  heat,  thy  goblet  full 
Of  water  sparkling  from  the  fountain's  brim. 
Once,  when  thy  chariot  with  its  lion  crest 
Whirl'd through  the  dust,  andthunder'dbythegoal, 
While  thou  like  Mars  didst  stand  with  guiding 

reins, 

And  sounding  lash,  and  Greece  decreed  a  crown 
Around  thy  head  unknown,  thy  slave  pick'd  up 
Thy  laurell'd  circlet  which  had  dropp'd  to  earth, 
And  bound  it  on  thy  hair. 

AEISTON. 

Where  wast  thou,  girl, 
To  see  what  I  recall,  but  had  forgot  ? 

INO. 

In  Lydia,  too,  when  thou  had'st  scaled  a  wall, 

And  fell  back  by  a  blow,  a  second  slave 

Wiped  off  thy  blood,  and  nursed  thee  weary  weeks. 


102  ARISTON. 

ARISTON. 

Thou  art  a  witch  to  know  and  tell  such  things  ; 
Some  god  from  Asia  brought  this  news  to  thcc  ! 

INC. 

Maybe  I  borrow'd  wings  from  Mercury, 
Or  Cupid  bound  his  pinions  to  my  feet. 
Again,  at  Tyre,  the  king,  who  gave  a  feast, 
Laugh'd  at  thy  fast  from  wine,  and  challenged  thee, 
When  thy  third  slave,  who  chanced  to  bear  the  cup, 
Fell  down,  and  spill'd  the  wine  to  save  thy  vow, 
But  earn'd  an  oath  that  made  e'en  Pluto  shake. 

AEISTON. 

Say,  who  these  slaves  ?   A  woman's  wit  will  match 
A  woman's  love,  and  do  what  frightens  men. 

INO. 

And  when,  return'd  to  Greece,  thy  grappling  ships 
Like  clasping  tigers  fought,  and  stain'd  the  sea — 
Thou  gaining  fame  that  makes  thee  Archon  now, 
Thy  name  to  Greece  unknown,  but  not  to  me, 
A  fourth  slave  at  thy  side  did  watch  each  blow  ; 
The  battle  o'er,  did  spread  'neath  stars  thy  couch, 
And  when  the  evening  winds  touch'd  light  thy 

cheek 
With  envied  kiss,  did  fan  thee  to  thy  sleep. 

ARISTOX. 

'Twas  thou,  disguised,  who  follow'd  me  to  save. 
I  felt  thy  sacred  presence  round  my  life ; 


ARISTON.  103 

Henceforth  I  worship  thee  and  not  the  gods  ! 
My  soul  subdued  from  vice  now  claims  thy  love. 

[They  embrace. 

Each  here  to  each  we  pledge  our  hearts  and  lives  ! 
Ye  powers  who  made  yon  moon,  and  bent  that  dome 
In  starry  glory  round  our  circled  earth, 
Our  country  watch  and  girdle  with  your  care, 
And  on  her  altar  give  us  strength  to  die  ! 

INO. 

In  this  disguise  I  am  Alcander's  page  ! 
His  daily  doves  to  Persia  bear  our  plans, 
Before  their  bud  can  blossom  into  flower. 

ARISTON. 

Ye  heavens !  oh,  must  a  son  his  father  track 
Like  hounds  a  fox,  and  hunt  him  to  his  death  ? 

HELIA  enters,  still  crazed,  supposing  herself  CERES  in 
search  o/ PROSERPINE  ;  she  is  crowned  with  flowers, 
and  carries  bearded  sheaves. 

HELIA. 

'Twas  Pluto  stole  my  dear — she  lives  in  hell. 
Oh  !  weep,  with  Ceres  weep,  and  weep,  and  weep  ! 

ARISTON. 

How  can  I  bear  a  sight  which  tears  my  soul  ? 
More  worn  and  crazed  than  when  I  left  our  home. 

HELIA  sings. 

0  king  of  night,  hear  thou  my  cry  ! 
Give  back  my  child  ! 


104  ARISTON. 

A  gloom  is  on  the  earth  and  sky 
That  makes  me  wild. 

O'er  hell's  black  mouth  I  scatter  flowers 

And  fruits  and  sheaves, 
To  charm  you  up,  infernal  powers, 

Where  Ceres  grieves. 

Send  over  Styx  and  up  from  night, 

My  child  to-day ; 
Proserpine,  give  to  the  light, 

I  pray,  I  pray! 

Enter  ALCANDER,  who  does  not  know  ARISTON 
as  his  son. 

ALCANDER. 

Ha  !  here  my  page  !  Boy,  I  have  sought  thee  long. 
And  Helia,  thou — who  brought  thee  to  the  camp  ? 
The  slave  who  let  thee  loose  shall  feel  my  whip. 
Both  follow  me  ! 

HELIA. 

Pluto,  thou  art  from  hell. 
My  child,  my  child  !  oh,  give  me  back  my  child  ! 

ALCAXDER. 

Quick,  wife  and  slave,  or  I  will  force  you  on, 

ARISTON. 

Alcander,  nay  !  thou  shalt  not  thus  be  harsh. 


ARI8TON.  105 

ALCANDER. 

Shalt,  Archon,  shalt !  thy  insults  stain  my  name, 
And  leave  a  blot  thy  blood  alone  can  cleanse. 
[!NO  rushes  away  with  HELIA,  while  ALCANDER 
assaults  ARISTOX,  and  falls  insensible  after   a 
brief,  but  as  it  turns  out,  not  a  fatal  contest. 

ARISTON. 

Oh !  blacker  grows  my  life,  supernal  gods  ; 

A  father's  blood  spots  o'er  this  moonlit  earth, 

And  that  red  mouth  cries  out,  "thou  parricide  !  " 

A  sire  kill'd  by  his  son,  as  gives  some  tree 

Upon  the  mountain's  brow  a  filial  limb 

Unto  the  axe  that  fells  its  shatter'd  trunk ; 

My  hand  has  pierced  the  heart  that  fill'd  my  veins, 

And  quench'd  in  night  the  soul  that  lit  mine  own. 

But  yet  a  traitor's  that  majestic  form. 

Both  shame  and  grief  are  in  the  drops  I  weep  ; 

The  father  melts  mine  eye  to  tender  tears, 

The  traitor  turns  the  gushing  floods  to  ice. 

Thus  liberty  groans  up  through  death  to  light. 

Here,  near  my  father's  flesh,  I,  freedom's  son, 

Kneel  down,  and  swear  to  fight  till  Greece  be  free. 


106  ARISTON. 


SCENE  II. — A  tent  in  the  Grecian  camp,  wliere  the 
ARCHON  and  Generals  sit  in  council. 

ARCHON. 

trumpet's  breath  has  call'd  our  council 

now 

To  hear  proposals  from  the  Persian  king. 
Shall  Greece  at  all  receive  his  embassy  ? 

HEROCLES. 

What  harm  to  see  a  tyrant's  messenger  ? 

Nor  fear  nor  falsehood  should  impose  on  Greeks. 

I  must  advise  that  we  should  hear  the  terms ; 

If  they  advantage,  ours  will  be  the  gain  ; 

If  they  insult,  'twill  rouse  and  weld  the  states. 

CALOPIIOS. 

I  think  with  Herocles  that  we  should  see 

And  hear  our  foe  in  his  ambassador ; 

'Twill  wake  in  us  more  true  and  firm  resolve. 

ARCIION. 
Are  all  agreed  that  here  the  Persian  speak  ? 

ALL. 

Agreed !  agreed  ! 

AECHON. 

Herald,  announce  our  will  ! 
[The  Persian  ambassador  is  introduced. 


AEISTON.  107 

AMBASSADOR. 

All  hail,  ye  men  of  Greece,  most  true  and  brave  ! 
I  have  come  to  you  from  the  king  of  kings, 
Who,  like  the  sun,  would  shed  his  beams  on  all, 
And  make  a  world  in  his  bright  smile  rejoice. 

ARCIIOX. 

We  have  decreed  to  know  thy  monarch's  wish, 
Supposing  always  nothing  will  be  urged 
To  hurt  the  pride,  or  stain  the  name  of  Greece. 
This  understood,  we  wait  to  hear  thy  words. 

AMBASSADOR. 

My  task  is  brief ;  my  king's  compassion's  great ; 
He  fain  would  spare  your  blood  and  give  you  peace. 
Our  arms  possess  your  land,  our  ships  your  sea  ; 
On  yon  high  mountain-rock  amid  the  clouds 
Our  monarch  sits  with  Greece  beneath  his  feet ; 
White  gleam  his  tents  where  millions  flash  forth 

fear; 

An  ocean  he,  an  earthquake  to  o'erwhelm, 
Before  destruction  sends  you  terms  of  grace. 
When  ye  bring  earth  and  water  to  his  throne 
He  will  recall  his  troops,  except  a  guard, 
Impose  slight  burdens  on  your  tribute  state, 
And  through  his  satrap  rule  o'er  this  your  Greece. 

AECHON. 

Since  we  can  feel  no  fear,  we  ask  no  grace, 
But  trust  our  cause  and  country  to  our  swords. 


108  ARISTON. 

With  threats  of  chains  Greece  would  have  scorn'd 

thee  hence  ; 
With  words  of  peace  she  will  discuss  thy  terms. 

[Exit  Ambassador. 

Let  the  gods  speak  before  frail  men  may  talk  ! 
But  Heaven  can  counsel  earth  in  such  an  hour. 
Bring  in  the  Priest ! 

Enter  Priest. 

Most  venerable  man, 
What  say  the  victims  and  the  oracle  ? 

PRIEST. 

Ye  Greeks,  I'll  tell  what  I  have  seen  and  heard. 
White  as  the  snow  of  Helicon,  a  lamb 
Was  on  Apollo's  marble  altar  burn'd  ; 
Soon  smoke  curl'd  o'er  the  blaze,  and  through  its 

clouds, 

As  if  'twas  born  of  them,  an  eagle  flew  ; 
Then  flashing  down,  he  sat  with  balanc'd  wing 
On  Delphi's  pinnacle,  till  circling  high 
He  sunward  soar'd  in  sign  of  victory. 

ARCHOX. 

But,  Priest,  hast  thou  yet  ask'd  the  Pythoness, 
Who  from  her  tripod  tells  what  will  the  fates  ? 

PRIEST. 

Before  our  Delphi's  shrine,  with  streaming  locks, 
And  eyes  that  seem'd  two  sparks  of  lightning-fire, 


AEISTON.  109 

In  whispers  first,  that  rose  to  thunder-bursts, 
'Mid  smoke  and  flame,  the  frenzied  priestess  cried : 
When  ocean  conquers  land, 
And  the  sun  leaves  the  sky, 
Greece  Persia  will  command, 
And  Liberty  shall  die. 

ARCHON. 

These  words  declare  to  us  our  victory. 
Yet  'tis  with  us,  or  chains  or  liberty  : 
Calm  Prudence  sits  in  council  with  the  brave, 
And  Courage  takes  no  risk  that  it  may  shun, 
While  in  a  war  of  views  is  wisdom  born. 
Alcander,  tell  us  what  thou  dost  advise. 

ALCANDER. 

My  wounds,  young  chief,  may  make  my  cause 

seem  weak, 

Since  blood  drain'd  from  the  veins  bedims  the  mind. 
Xor  are  the  times  propitious  to  my  plea. 
Once  Greece  preferr'd  grey  hairs  to  curls  of  youth, 
And  scars  to  boasts,  and  fame  to  infamy. 
Now  heroes  hide,  and  boys  to  office  flash, 
While  passion  rules  with  wild,  impetuous  sway. 
We  seek  not  laurels,  but  the  good  of  Greece ; 
Our  aim  not  crowns  for  us,  but  peace  for  her, 
Swarm'd  o'er  by  troops,  who,  fierce  as  sea-waves, 

fling 
Their  Persian  fury  on  our  trembling  shores. 


110  ABISTON. 

Can  we  beat  back  these  floods  ?    When  we  can  hurl 
The  billows  from  the  sands.  Where  brave  men  yield, 
Whose  blood  has  flow'd  like  ours,  to  save  the  state, 
'Tis  no  disgrace.     Here  weak  we  are  and  few, 
And  there  a  multitude  ;  our  coffers  low, 
With  them  exhaustless  gold;    fierce  discord  ours, 
While  to  our  foes  one  will.     If  we  resist, 
Chains,  fire,  and  death,  but  peace  if  we  will  yield. 
Let  Greece  repose  beneath  the  Persian  throne, 
And  catch  the  brightness  of  an  empire's  beams  ! 

HEROCLES. 

Me  have  mine  ears  deceived  ?  or  is  it  so 
That  Greece  has  been  advised  to  crouch,  a  slave  ? 
Shall  she  bring  earth  to  kings,  her  past  blot  out, 
And  stain  the  glory  which  her  fathers  gave  ? 
Can  we  not  guard  what  they  for  us  have  won  ? 
Nay  !  what  they  conquer'd  we'll  defend  till  death. 
Our  chief,  'tis  said,  is  young !    at  least  he's  brave, 
And  bares  his  arm  to  strike  where  age  would  yield. 
Twice  in  the  games  he  won  from  all  the  prize  ; 
By  sea  and  land  twice  led  to  victory. 
Incarnate  Greece  lives  in  his  soul,  and  sheds 
Round  glory  where  her  hero  fights,  strewing 
With  crowns  his  path  to  an  immortal  fame. 
Are  states  disjoin'd  ?    'Tis  Persia's  gold  divides. 
Say,  who,  Alcander,  scatters  it  conceal' d, 
And  fills  our  camp  with  treasons  and  with  fears  ? 


ARI8TON.  Ill 

Wilt  thou  to  Persia  bear  demanded  earth  ? 

Thou  carry  water  to  the  feet  of  kings  ? 

Wilt  iliou  cringe  there  a  slave,  where  Greece  will 

hiss 

Thee  with  eternal  scorn  ?     We  will  not  yield  ! 
'Tis  ours  to  fight  for  Greece,  not  give  her  chains, 
And  lift  our  race  to  universal  sway. 
The  gods  choose  us  for  freedom's  mighty  war, 
And  in  their  will  is  an  immortal  strength. 

CALOPHOS. 

Ye  Powers  above,  smile  on  us  while  we  fight, 
Since  Heaven  helps  those  to  strike  who  dare  the 

blow ; 

While  on  our  altars  fires  propitious  blaze, 
And  signs  to  triumph  point  and  oracles, 
The  gods  will  blast  us  if  we  think  to  pause, 
And  men  will  call  us  cowards  in  their  scorn. 
Raise,  Greeks,  the  battle-shout  of  liberty  ! 
When  younger,  I  hurl'd  down,  a  rushing  foe, 
And  with  his  corpses  piled  our  bloody  soil. 
Again  this  wrinkled  hand  shall  grasp  the  spear, 
This  head  shall  feel  the  helm  where  warriors  die. 
Let  cowards  shrink,  and  traitors  counsel  peace, 
While  we  the  tyrants  slay  who  would  chain 

Greece. 

ALCANDEE. 

Cowards,  for  me  this  word  ?  traitors,  for  me  ? 


112  ARISTON. 

Grey  hairs  a  licence  claim  ;  who  dares  to  prove 
What  Calophos  would  hint  ? 
ARCHON. 

Alcander,  cease ; 
No  challenge  I  permit  in  such  a  place. 

ALCANDER. 

And  who,  vain  youth,  art  thou  ?  Thy  words  beware  ! 
This  wound  of  mine  no  eyes  save  ours  saw  bleed  ; 
Next,  thy  rent  flesh  may  let  thy  life  ooze  out. 

ARCHON. 

Speak  thus  again,  and  thou  shalt  be  in  chains  ! 

ALCANDER. 

'Tis  chance  did  make  thee  rule  o'er  better  men, 
While  in  my  veins  the  oldest  blood  of  Greece. 
Who  art  thou,  youth  ? 

ARCHON. 

Thy  son  ! 

ALCANDER. 

'Tis  false  ! 

ARISTON. 

'Tis  true ! 

ALCANDER. 

That  drunkard  left  my  home  and  died  afar. 

ARISTON. 

Nay  !  he  return'd  disguised,  bronzed  o'er  by  war, 
And  with  the  lines  of  vice  worn  from  his  face  ; 
See  here  the  proof,  and  mark  on  my  right  arm — 


ARISTON.  113 

A  word  traced  there  in  infancy  by  thee — 

Ariston,  read — then  on  my  finger  note 

The  seal  of  our  own  house  set  round  in  gold. 

ALCANDEE. 

A  silly  lie  which  time  will  tear  to  shreds ; 
But  if  my  son,  be  thine  a  father's  curse  ! 

HEROCLES. 

Come,  nephew,  to  my  arms- — the  mist  clears  off. 
We  learn  why  thus  our  hearts  beat  warm  for  thee, 
And  for  her  son  Greece  felt  such  sympathy. 

CALOPHOS. 

Ariston,  hail !  my  pupil's  voice  I  know, 
And  marvel  thy  disguise  could  hide  thee  so. 

ALL. 

Ariston,  hail !    All  Greece  will  bid  thee,  hail  ! 

ARISTON. 

Here  to  this  council  I  unfold  my  name, 
My  secret  giving  to  the  ear  of  Greece, 
Lest  it  may  perish  in  the  battle-shock. 
Wild  Pleasure  stain'd  my  life,  till  Love  redeem'd, 
And  gave  me  back  to  live  and  die  for  Greece. 
Her  form  I  see,  as  when  Athena  lifts, 
Through  some  dark  cloud  o'er  the  Acropolis, 
Her  flashing  image  to  the  morning  sun. 
Ye  Greeks,  a  soul  resolved  is  victory. 
United  stand,  and,  strengthen'd  by  the  gods, 
Hurl  Persia  from  yon  hill,  and  sink  her  ships 
I 


114  ARISTON. 

Beneath,  the  weight  of  the  eternal  sea  ! 
Only  from  martyr-drops  is  Freedom  born. 
Our  deeds  will  live  in  song  to  thrill  our  sons, 
And  conquer  time  by  Art's  immortal  touch, 
Till  in  their  splendour  coming  ages  say — 
Behold  the  spot  where  Greece  saved  Liberty ! 


ACT    IV. 

SCENE  I. —  Tent  of  the  KING  in  the  Persian  Camp  in 

Greece. 

KING. 

;  HO  art  thou,  Greek  ? 

ALCANDER. 

One  thou  hast  seen  before 
Prays  from  the  ground,  O  King,  and  asks  thy 
grace. 

KING. 

Thy  face  is  strange,  yet  o'er  my  mem'ry  floats 
An  image  from  the  past  that  seems  like  thee. 
Ha  !  now  'tis  plain  !  changed  thou  art,  Alcander  ! 
Thy  hair  more  grey,  and  much  more  bent  thy  form, 
And  in  thy  haggard  eye  a  fiercer  look. 

ALCANDEK. 

I  have  perform'd  my  work,  immortal  King ! 


ARISTON.  115 

'Tis  that  made  white  my  locks,  that  shook  my  nerves, 
That  kindles  in  mine  eye  its  wilder  fire. 
Divided  Greece,  her  friends  bought  off  by  me, 
Cowers  at  thy  feet,  and  makes  nay  pact  complete ! 

KING. 

Thou  hast  for  us  been  active  as  the  winds, 
Fiercer  than  fire,  and  tireless  as  the  sea ; 
Our  gold  through  thee  has  poison'd  Greece 
Until  her  bloated  flesh  falls  from  her  heart ; 
Now  soon  our  arms  will  push  her  to  her  grave, 
And  with  her  bury  freedom  from  the  world. 
In  her  new  Archon  her  sole  hope  is  left. 

ALCANDER. 

Curse  on  his  upstart  head  !    I'll  bring  it  low. 

KING. 

To  take  him  off  no  price  too  great  for  us  ; 

Then  Persia  will  chain  down  the  limbs  of  Greece 

Forever  fetter'd  'neath  my  conquering  foot. 

ALCANDER. 

For  that  I  wish  not  gold,  but  ask  my  bond — 
To  thee  a  parchment  dead,  to  me  a  ghost 
That  haunts  my  sleep,  and  stirs  up  ugly  dreams, 
And  with  a  leering  eye  stares  o'er  my  life. 
I  do  demand  my  bond,  naught  but  my  bond, 
And  for  my  bond  I'll  give  thy  pay  in  blood. 

KING. 

Alcander,  thou  art  mad — thy  look  most  wild — 


11G  ARISTON. 

Thy   hand   with    eager  clutch  clasps  round  thy 

sword — 
I  fear  thy  ways. 

ALCANDER. 

My  work  has  shaken  me. 
In  killing  Greece  I  let  her  spirit  loose 
To  stand  a  torturing  spectre  on  my  path. 
It  comes,  and  glaring  cries  to  have  my  bond 
To  silence  it — and  hence  my  bond  I  want, 
To  hold  it  thus,  and  feel  it  in  my  palm, 
Then  give  it  to  the  flames,  and  in  its  smoke 
Roll  off  each  damning  token  of  my  crime, 
And  cleanse  my  soul,  and  lay  this  ghost  for  me. 
My  bond,  O  king,  I  beg,  hand  o'er  my  bond  ! 

KING. 

Thou  art  most  fierce,  thy  reason  is  disturb'd 
By  these  remorseful  memories  of  thy  life. 

ALCANDER. 

Give  me  my  bond,  and  that  my  mind  will  cure ! 

KING. 

If  thou  for  it  the  Archon  slay,  we  will ; 

Persia  will  bless  thee  too  with  rank  and  gold.    • 

ALCAXDER. 

What  such  poor  stuff  to  me  !  nought  but  my  bond. 
The  tiger  says  what  to  the  silly  kid 
Who  gambols  near  his  lair  ?    A  spring,  a  tooth, 
A  piercing  claw,  then  a  low  growl  of  joy, 


AEISTON.  117 

While  sparks  fly  out  from  his  too  eager  eyes, 
And  quivers  with  delight  his  spotted  skin ; 
'Tis  nature  in  the  beast,  and  not  his  crime. 
So  I,  O  king,  first  wrong'd  by  Greece,  then  struck 
Down  by  her  chief,  by  hate  and  fate  urged  on, 
True  to  myself  will  kill  thy  foe  and  mine. 

KIXG. 

Thy  bond  is  in  our  chest  three  leagues  away, 
But  ere  this  eve  thy  dove  shall  bring  it  thee. 

ALCA3TDEE. 

O  king,  enough !    I  trust  to  thee  my  bond. 
Send  it  through  air  to  fly  more  swift  than  winds, 
And  pass  on  clouds  the  lightnings  as  they  wink, 
Bringing  aloft  across  the  night  of  Heaven 
My  white- wing'd  dove  that  bears  to  me  my  bond, 
And  back  his  mate  will  sail  with  news  to  thee, 
To  redden  earth,  and  turn  the  skies  to  blood, 
And  hurl  down  Greece  to  writhe  in  her  own  gore. 
While  thou  and  I  exult  to  see  her  die. 

SCENE  II. — Tent  of  ALCANDEE  in  the  Grecian  camp  ; 
INO  disguised  as  liis  paye. 

ALCANDER. 

,  see  this  flame  which  curls  up  with  a 


And  seems  to  say,  "Aha,  I  love  my  work ! " 


118  AEISTON. 

Give  it  more  oil ! 

INO. 

The  lamp  will  hold  no  more. 

ALCANDEB. 

Then  with  the  bellows  make  more  fierce  the  fire  ! 
Breathe  on  it,  Winds,  and  help  me  blast  my  foe  ! 
Note  in  the  flask  that  small  but  shining  drop, 
And  tell  me,  boy,  what  in  its  circle  sleeps. 

INO. 

1  am,  as  thou,  no  alchemist  to  sway 
The  shining  stars ,  to  bind  and  loose  the  winds, 
And  raise  the  waves,  and  bring  from  herbs  their 
powers. 

ALCANDER. 

In  Persia  I  learn'd  that,  from  an  old  sage 
Who  read  the  heav'ns  e'en  as  the  books  he  wrote, 
And  moved  to  life  and  death  the  elements. 
His  hair  was  snow,  but  then  his  eye  was  flame, 
And  seem'd  to  look  dilate  across  the  grave 
Till  to  its  glance  all  hidden  things  stood  plain. 
He  taught  me  how  to  make  yon  glittering  drop 
Where  I  see  life  and  death  lie  side  by  side. 
There  Persia's  fate  and  there  the  fate  of  Greece  ; 
Oh  !  more  to  me  that  drop  than  Asian  gems  ! 
It  makes  me  free ! — see  if  the  dove  has  come. 

INO  (standing  at  the  tent  door). 
The  moon  is  tip,  just  lifting  from  the  sea  ; 


AEISTON.  119 

And  quick  she  climbs  above  the  summer  mists, 
Flinging  across  the  waves  her  track  of  beams  ; 
But  not  a  speck  is  on  the  brilliant  sky. 

ALCANDER. 

Thou  liest,  slave  !  Look  out  with  sharper  gaze  ! 
I  cannot  leave  my  fire  e'en  for  my  bond. 
What  dove  is  missing  now  from  out  our  cote  ? 

INO. 

He  is  a  Syrian  dove,  and  of  the  flock 
I  noted  him  the  king.     No  arrow  wing'd 
With  beams  from  bright  Apollo's  bow  will  fly 
More  swift  than  he  will  dart,  and  reach  thy  tentr 

ALOANDBB. 

A  noble  bird,  whose  breast  with  silver 'd  hues 
Gleams  like  yon  moon — his  pointed  pinions 

made 
To,  outspeed  winds,  and  round  his  neck  my  fate. 

INO. 

Why  is  it,  master,  that  our  Grecian  doves 
Do  fly  but  to  and  from  the  Persian  camp  ? 

ALCANDER. 

What  means  that,  boy  ?     Stand  here  before  this 

flame  ! 

A  guileless  soul  is  beaming  from  thy  face ; 
Thy  glance  is  clear,  and  I  do  wish  no  words. 
My  trust  is  in  thine  eyes  more  than  thy  lips : 
If  false,  thy  heart  shall  quiver  on  this  steel. 


120  ARISTON. 

INO. 

How  thou  dost  scare  thy  slave  !  E'en  in  thy  dreams 
Thy  teeth  will  gnash — thy  words  freeze  o'er  my 
blood. 

ALCANDEK. 

Tell  on  thy  life  what  thou  hast  heard  me  say  ! 

INO. 

Last  night  when  cried  the  guard  his  last  lone  hour, 
Our  lamp  was  low  ;  while  I  toss'd  on  my  bed, 
In  the  dim  ray,  I  saw  thee  work  thy  face 
And  grind  thy  jaw ;  thine  eyes  stood  from  thy  head, 
Thy  hands  were  clasp'd,  and  round  thy  limbs  did 

twist, 
As  from  thy  breast  oppress'd  came  stifled  moans. 

ALCANDER. 

Boy,  'twas  a  dream,  and  yet  its  torment  dire  ; 
The  moon  pass'd  o'er  the  sun  fring'd  round  with 

flame, 

And  darkness  sat  on  earth  with  twilight  mix'd  ; 
The  stars  next  turn'd  to  blood,  and  whirling  fell 
Caught  in  a  comet's  hair,  while  all  the  sky 
Seem'd  like  my  shrivelling  bond  ;  birds  sought 

their  boughs, 
And  beasts  cower'd  to  their  dens  as  if  the  sun 

were  dead, 

And  owls  and  bats  flew  over  stalking  shapes ; 
Then  on  a  cloud  Athena  shook  her  snakes, 


ARISTON.  121 

And  seized  my  hair  to  fling  me  from  the  sky, 
While  monsters  swarm'd  o'er  Greece  to  tear  my 

flesh  ; 
But,  boy,  enough  !  Look  for  the  bird  once  more. 

oo. 

I  see  it  cross  the  moon  !  it  comes !  it  comes  ! 
I  hear  its  wings  !    It  circles  o'er  our  tent ! 

ALCANDEB. 

Be  quick,  my  slave  !    I  cannot  leave  my  fire  ; 
Take  from  the  dove  my  bond  and  bring  it  here. 
[Ixo  goes  to  the  dove,  and  untying  the  bond  flings 
it  behind  the  tent   to  AKISTON,   and   brings  to 
ALCAXDER  a  blank  piece  of  paper. 

ixo. 

My  master,  all  is  right !    Here  is  thy  bond  ! 
I  knew  our  Syrian  dove  was  true  of  wing. 

ALCAXDER. 

Thanks  to  the  gods  !    I'm  safe  if  Persia  fails, 
And  Grecian  eyes  should  search  her  conquer'd 

camp. 

I'll  read  my  bond,  then  give  it  to  the  flames 
To  roll  away  my  infamy  in  air. 

[He  opens  the  paper  in  the  lamp-light. 
'Tis  blank  !    I'm  duped  !  the  villain  king  has  lied  ! 
The  Fates  are  at  my  throat  to  clutch  and  kill ! 
Again  the  ghost  of  Greece  glares  down  on  me  ! 
Slave,  art  thou  false  ?  find  thon  my  bond,  or  die  ! 


122  AEI3TON. 

IXO. 

Master,  oh  blame  me  not !  that  from  the  dove 
Tied  on  his  faithful  neck  I  brought  to  thee. 

ALCAXDER. 

Out,  slave  !  bring  forth  the  lamp,  and  search  with 

me ! 

\_Tliey  leave  the  tent,  and  wJiiJe  looking  around, 
ARISTOX  enters  from  beJiind  with  soldiers. 

ARISTON. 

We  seize  Alcander  in  the  name  of  Greece. 

ALCANDER. 

Back,  I  say  !  back,  nor  dare  to  touch  my  flesh ! 
Base  slave  who  sold  my  blood,  I  hurl  thee  down. 
[ALCANDERyftn^rs  ING  on  the  ground. 
Come  on !  come  on  !    I  chains  and  Greece  defy  ! 
Mean  upstart,  I  will  never  yield  to  thee  ! 
Ye  stand  and  fear,  and  own  my  better  blood  ! 
Those  fetters  shall  not  bind  Alcander's  arms  ! 

\_After  a  short  but  severe  struggle  ALCAXDER  is 
bound  and  forced  aivay. 

ARISTOX. 

My  Ino  sinks,  struck  by  my  father's  hand ! 

Oh  live,  my  love,  or  I  will  die  with  thee ! 

Now  from  this  stream  I'll  bathe  her  cold,  white 

brow ! 

Bring  back,  ye  glistening  drops,  her  life  to  me ! 
Ye  pulses,  start,  and  give  this  cheek  its  bloom ! 


ARISTON.  123 

Ino  !  Ino  !  'tis  thy  Ariston  calls, 
And  bids  thy  spirit  come  to  its  fair  clay ! 
See  me  these  eyes,  and  speak  these  marbled  lips 
Which  here  I  kiss,  and  rise  this  form  whose  grace 
Doth  robe  a  shape  sent  down  to  me  from  Heav'n  ! 
Oh,  he  who  hides  in  earth  her  whom  he  loves 
Entombs  his  life,  and  makes  this  world  a  grave ! 
She  breathes  !    she  stirs  !   I  thank  the  listening 
Powers  ! 


SCENE  III. — A  Dunyeon.     ALCANDEK  in  chains. 

ALCANDBK. 

f  E  Gods  !  my  brain  is  fire !  my  heart  is 

stone ! 
Wild  horrors  throng  these  walls  and  shake 

my  soul. 

Grim,  goblin  shapes  come  creeping  o'er  my  gloom  ; 
Old  warriors  seam' d.  with  wounds,  meek  matrons 

slain, 

And  mangled  babes  with  their  reproachful  eyes, 
Look  down  on  me,  while  spirits  shriek  around, 
And  furies  hurl  red  torches  through  the  air. 
'Tis  Greece  with  corpses  piled  lies  on  my  breast 
With  an  eternal  weight — the  cause,  my  bond 
Which  sign'd  me  o'er  to  hell  to  do  its  work — • 


124  ARISTON. 

My  everlasting  lash  to  whip  me  on. 

The  traitor  sells  himself,  and  buys  such  joy  ! 

Enter  ARISTON  bearing  a  lamp. 

Out  of  my  sight !  this  is  the  worst  of  all ! 

The  deadly  snake  more  welcome  here  than  thee. 

ARISTON. 

Father,  forgive  !  'tis  Fate  decrees  our  doom. 

ALCANDER. 

Forgive  !  that  word  and  thee  I  would  blot  out. 
Look  on  my  chain  !  who  bound  it  on  my  wrist  ? 
Who  scarr'd  my  flesh,  and  sent  me  to  this  gloom, 
And  on  my  forehead  fix'd  a  traitor's  mark  ? 
Ariston,  thou  ! 

ARISTON. 

I  can  undo  it  all, 

And  set  thee  free.     We  fear  not  Persian  arms, 
But  Persian  gold,  and  know  not  whom  to  trust. 
Greece  sits  on  battle's  edge  in  dismal  doubt ; 
Chief  chief  suspects,  and  soldier  soldier  fears. 
Show  who  is  bought,  and  Greece  forgets  the 

past, 
And  gives  its  glory  to  our  clouded  house. 

ALCANDER. 

Nay,  let  her  die  !  my  hand  would  hurl  the  torch 
Of  blasting  war,  not  quench  for  her  its  flames. 
Let  Persia  plant  her  throne,  and  rule  our  mobs  ! 


ARISTON.  125 

AEISTOX. 

I  only  seek  in  thine  the  good  of  Greece, 
And  beg  thee  save  her  from  a  tyrant's  chain. 

ALCANDER. 

Should  I  confess,  thou'dst  be  a  traitor's  son, 
Tainted  thy  blood,  and  cursed  our  house  and  name  ; 
Thy  welfare  and  mine  own  would  seal  my  lips. 

ARISTON. 

Thou  dost  relent !  thy  heart  melts  o'er  thy  son  ! 
Down  at  thy  feet  he  prays  for  perill'd  Greece  ! 

ALCANDEE. 

Relent !  with  blows,  if  thou  this  chain  take  off  • 
Relent !  as  tigers  do  when  mouth'd  in  blood  ; 
Relent !  as  furies  when  they  blast  with  flames. 
My  dungeon's  gloom  leave  thou  in  peace  to  me  ! 
Thy  quest  insulting  doth  assume  my  guilt. 

ARISTON. 

Too  much  we  know — thy  bond  is  in  my  hand, 
Borne  by  thy  dove  from  Persia's  camp  to  me. 

ALCANDER. 

My  bond  a  proof  with  thee  is  death  to  me  ! 
Each  tie  is  snapp'd  that  binds  to  this  grim  earth. 
Thou  shalt  live  spotted  with  thy  father's  blood; 
This  poison  on  my  lip  compell'd  by  thee ! 
It  turns  my  veins  to  fire,  and  burns  my  brain  : 
Thy  work,  my  son,  who  brought  me  here  to 
die: 


126  ARISTON. 

These  pangs  from  thee ;  I  gasp  to  curse  thy  soul, 
And  leave  my  heir  his  heritage  in  hate.          [Dies. 

ARISTOX. 

Oh  !  this  indeed  is  death !     His  touch  like  stone 
Chills  on  my  flesh,  and  round  the  air  seems  ice  ! 
Stiff  as  the  chains  that  bind  are  now  his  limbs ! 
In  this  dim  flame  his  eyes  stare  on  me  hate, 
And  on  his  lip  stands  yet  his  lingering  curse* 
His  soul  stays  here  to  blast  me  ere  it  leave. 
Oh  !  through  these  clouds,  Athena,  shine  o'er 

Greece, 

And  from  thy  locks  shake  ruin  on  our  foes, 
Crowning  our  brows  with  thine  immortal  beams  ! 


ACT    V. 

SCEXE  I. — A  Grvve  lefcre  a  temple  of  Minerva. 

ARISTON. 

AM  once  more  a  Greek,  and   joyance 

leaps 
On    through   my  blood  fresh  as   this 

morning  air, 

Whose  bosom  throbs  to  fill  the  world  with  life ; 
Our  manhood  grows  but  in  the  light  of  joy. 

mo. 
A  Greek's  a  bird  whose  pulse  has  thrills  of  glee, 


ARISTON.  127 

And  sings  each  day  as  if  no  next  would  be. 

ARISTON. 

Ino,  I've  had  enough  to  sober  me  : 

A  father's  death,  a  mother's  wreck,  the  wars 

Of  struggling  Greece  ! 

INO. 

Once  more  the  shadow  comes. 

ARISTON. 

And  then  the  battle  to  subdue  myself! 

INO. 

Enough  !    I'll  run  away,  or  else  will  stop 
With  kisses  thy  sad  lips.     Go  seek  the  crown 
In  games,  or  chase  along  the  hills  the  boar, 
Or  smile  to  see  thee  on  the  mimic  stage ! 
Woman  loves  sunshine  in  the  eye  of  man, 
Has  faith  in  him  who  in  himself  has  hope, 
And  strength  to  screen  her  from  the  tempest's  force. 

ARISTON. 

Ino,  well  said  !    Buy  Plato's  cloak  and  gown, 
And  teach  to  listening  Greece  the  ways  of  life. 

INO. 

Before  I  join  with  thee,  thou  tyro,  tell, 
Tell,  was  it  I  or  not  who  track'd  thy  step, 
And  follow'd  like  a  ghost  to  watch  thy  ways, 
Or  others  paid  by  me  to  bring  report. 

ARISTON. 

Graceful  and  trim,  'twas  thou,  my  pretty  boy. 


128  ARISTON. 

INO. 

I  say  not  it  was  I,  but  this  I  think 

Her  air  was  manly  if  her  cheek  was  smooth ; 

She  e'en  thyself  did  rival  in  the  camp, 

And  took  the  soldiers'  hearts,  who  stroked  her  curls, 

While,  swaggering,  she  did  joke  more  than  they  all. 

ARISTON. 

My  Ino,  stop — I  cannot  think  'twas  thou. 

INO. 

Strange  if  that  boy  had  won  thy  place  and  name  ; 
Immortal  he  in  marbles  made  by  Greece  ! 

ARISTON. 

Say  thou  no  more  !    Draw  o'er  those  days  a  veil ! 

INO. 

I  have  no  blush  for  what  I  did  for  thee ; 
The  love  that  urged  the  deed  preserved  my  sex. 
Look  on  my  cheek  !    there  sits  a  woman's  bloom. 
Gaze  in  mine  eye !  there  beams  a  woman's  light. 
Search  through  my  heart  !    there  lives  a  woman's 
love. 

ARISTON. 

High  o'er  Athena's  shrine  thy  page's  dress 
A  gift  to  Heav'n  shall  hang,  dear  next  thyself. 

INO. 

But  did  I  say  'twas  I  who  follow'd  thee  ? 
I'll  take  it  back — it  was  some  moonstruck  dunce — 
Or  else  my  shade  that  left  myself  in  Greece 


ARTS  TON.  129 

To  glide  abroad,  and  keep  a  watch  o'er  thee. 
But  cease  such  words  !  Behold  thy  mother  there, 
Who  seems  some  form  in  which  the  gods  breathe 

grace, 
That  they  may  see  a  matron's  dignity  ! 

HELIA. 

I've  pass'd  through  Hades,  Styx  and  Pluto  seen ; 
All  earth  I've  search'd,  and  walk'd  on  ocean's 

floor ; 
Olympus  climb'd,  and  stepp'd  up  into  Heav'n — 

LNO. 
Oh,  look,  our  Helia,  here  ! 

HELIA. 

That  voice  I  know, 
And  it  is  like  the  murmur  of  the  sea 
So  sad  in  shells  and  moans  along  the  shore. 

INO. 

I  Ino  am  ! 

HELIA. 

That  name  comes  from  the  past, 
And  lifts  a  cloud  away  from  memory. 

ARISTON. 

Mother,  I  am  thy  son  ! 

HELIA. 

How  dear  that  tone, 

And  how  familiar  too  !     My  boy's  sweet  voice, 
When  prattling  as  a  child,  more  manly  grown  ! 
K 


130  AEISTON. 

ARISTON. 

Ariston  I !    Oh,  touch  my  face,  and  gaze 
Into  mine  eye,  and  know  I  am  thy  son ! 

HELIA. 

The  marbles  in  the  Agora  like  thee  ! 

INO. 

These  were  his  images  placed  there  by  Greece  ! 
This  is  thy  son,  thy  true,  thine  only  son  ! 

HELTA. 

Then  let  me  feel  thy  hand  and  stroke  thy  cheek ; 
My  fingers  tell  my  brain  more  than  mine  eyes. 
Thou  art  the  same  who  in  the  statues  stands  ! 
My  gloom  is  gone  !    I  see  a  light  like  day ! 
Ariston  thou,  and  Ino  by  thy  side, 
I  know  you  both  and  clasp  you  to  my  heart. 

[All  embrace. 

The  world  is  fill'd  with  joy  too  great  for  life ! 
Athena,  from  thy  temple  look  and  hear 
Me  vow  myself  to  be  forever  thine  ! 
Upon  thine  altars  grateful  lambs  shall  burn, 
While  heav'n  and  earth  glow  o'er  with  light  and 
song ! 

Enter  girls  and  boys,  garlanded,  who  dance  tinging 
around  HELIA,  INO,  and  ARISTON. 

Hail,  son  of  Greece !  who  like  Mars  in  the  morning, 
Through  red  clouds  of  battle  gleam'd  fierce  on 
our  sight; 


ARISTON.  131 

Oh,  now  over  Heaven  thy  glory  adorning 

"Will  send  round  the  earth  the  sweet  beams  of 
thy  light. 

Hail,  son  of   Greece !    when   the   Persian's  mad 

minions 
Bore  torch  and  the  chain  to  the  land  that  we 

love, 

Thou  seemedst  an  eagle  hurl'd  swift  on  his  pinions, 
And  swoop'd  from  his  mountain-nest,  scaring 
the  dove. 

Hail,  son  of  Greece  !  bright  around  thee  thy  glory 
Like  that  on  the  heads  of  our  heroes  doth  shine  ! 

AKISTON  shall  live  in  song  and  in  story ; 

Immortal  with  Greece  he  his  name  shall  en 
twine. 


ARISTON. 


SCENE  II. — A  porcli  before  the  Temple  of  Jupiter 
-in  a  (/rove. 

HEROCLES. 

^  OW  bright  Apollos  drives  his  steeds  to-day 
That  earth  and  sky  may  smile  hi  light 

on  Greece  ! 

The  air  breathes  joyous  life,  the  sea-waves  dance ; 
Sweet  flowers  from  brilliant  leaves  give  grateful 

scents ; 

The  very  birds  seem  glad,  and  azure-crown'd 
Hymettus  in  his  love  stands  kissing  heaven. 

CALOPHOS. 

Some  power  unknown  has  thus  hurl'd  off  our  foe, 
Who  more  than  Jove  deserves  a  temple  here  ; 
To  him  be  thanks  who  sits  throned  o'er  our  gods. 
One  day  the  Persian's  arms  are  girdling  Greece, 
The  next,  our  land  beholds  his  ghastly  dead, 
While  o'er  the  sea  are  strewn  his  shatter'd  ships. 

ARISTON. 

But  terrible  the  price  of  liberty  ! 
Brave  Aristippus,  Philippon  the  true, 
lolo,  with  the  shades  !    With  batter'd  helm 
And  shield,  and  spear-pierced  through  the  neck, 
the  first 


AEISTON.  133 

I  saw  beneath  a  Median's  foot  pour  out  his  life. 
The  next,  on  snorting  horse  whose  eye  shot  fire, 
Was  hurl'd  amid  the  foe,  where  Syrian  darts 
That  flew  in  clouds  did  hide  my  friend  from  view, 
lolo,  oh !  ye  gods,  how  hard  his  fate  ! 
I  saw  him  stagger,  fighting  as  he  fell, 
Gash'd  o'er  by  wounds,  until  a  Persian,  cleft 
His  gory  head,  and  hurl'd  it  high  through  air. 
May  such  a  sight  salute  no  more  mine  eyes ! 

CALOPHOS. 

Well,  now  'tis  o'er,  the  dead  beyond  recall, 
And  ours  it  is  in  joy  to  give  our  thanks. 

HEEOCLES. 

Thy  youth,  Ariston,  show'd  in  one  mad  charge, 
Which  hurl'd  a  handful  on  a  Persian  horde, 
While  up  a  hill  was  thy  wild  murderous  rush. 

AEISTON. 

The  only  test  of  war  is  victory, 
Which  oft  gives  crowns  where  we  deserve  an  axe. 
Not  in  our  flesh  our  hope,  but  in  our  souls! 
Army  to  army  match'd,  and  ship  to  ship 
We  were  mere  madmen  beating  ocean  back. 
Despair  that  wins,  must  be  in  act  despair ; 
The  onward  snowflakes  make  the  avalanche ; 
The  onward  flames  will  mountains  wrap  in  fire. 

HEROCLES. 

Nephew,  I  own  that  thy  defence  is  good. 


134  AEISTON. 

But  see !  there  come  the  spoils  of  Jupiter ! 

AEISTON. 

Gods  !  let  these  trophies  stir  the  heart  of  Greece, 
And  loose  her  lip  to  shake  the  dome  of  Heav'n ! 

Enter  People  and  Soldiers  bearing  the 
spoils  of  battle. 

HEROCLES. 

See  there  a  tatter'd  Syrian  banner  float 
Stiff  with  its  splendid  blazonry  of  gold  ! 
One  Spartan  snatch'd  it  from  a  hundred  guards. 
There  come  the  quiver  of  a  Scythian  chief, 
An  Arab's  bow,  and  his  fire-breathing  horse ! 
That  Persian  shield  round  as  its  flashing  sun  ; 
And  from  some  royal  brow  the  Median  helm  ! 
Yon  crown's  bright  gem  burns  like  an  eye  of  Mars. 
Pile  upon  pile,  and  snatch'd  from  land  and  sea, 
An  empire's  spoils  our  noble  triumph  show. 

ARISTON. 

Good  Calophos,  the  trophies  are  prepared. 
Herald,  peal  o'er  the  grove  a  signal  blast ! 
Let  all  Greece  bow  while  earth  gives  thanks  to 
Heay'n !  [All  kneel. 

CALOPHOS. 

Olympian  Jove,  thy  majesty  we  own  ; 

Thine  are  the  skies,  and  thine  this  lower  world, 

Whose  eye  beholds,  whose  power  encircles  all, 


AEISTON.  135 

While  nations  can  but  rise  and  fall  in  th.ee. 
From  thy  high  throne  of  clouds  regard  our  Greece, 
Accept  her  thanks  for  thundering  on  her  foes, 
And  to  her  soil  eternal  Freedom  grant ! 
The  spoils  receive  we  place  before  thee  now, 
And  smile  propitious  while  we  utter  praise. 

[All  arise. 

HEROCLES. 

Now,  Calophos,  thy  gracious  task  discharge  ! 

CALOPHOS. 

To  her  whose  vigilance  was  bless' d  to  Greece 
Has  been  decreed  this  dove  of  Persian  gold ; 
The  Agora  to  Ino  votes  the  gift. 

ARISTON. 

Our  thanks  to  Athens  for  her  grateful  love  ! 

CALOPHOS. 

In  this  gemm'd  picture  sleeps  a  youth  on  flowers, 
Beneath  whom  roars  a  torrent  dash'd  o'er  rocks, 
While  sits  a  mother  near  her  dreaming  son ; 
Above  I  read  these  words  in  letter'd  gold— 
"Helia's  maternal  love  has  Athens  saved." 

ARISTOtf. 

My  tears  dropp'd  on  the  gift  evince  my  heart. 

CALOPHOS. 

Ariston,  taken  from  our  battle-spoils 

I  hold  a  crown  for  thine  own  brow  decreed  ; 

Bright-blazon'd  on  its  jewell'd  rim  I  read — 


136  AEISTON. 

"  All  Greece  Ariston  calls  deliverer !  " 

[AEISTON  kneels,  is  crowned  by  CALOPHOS  amid  the 
shouts  of  the  People,  and  then,  rising,  speaks. 

AEISTON. 

My  Calophos,  first  honour  to  the  gods 
From  whose  immortal  wings  drop  victory : 
As  their  own  gift  we  take  the  praise  of  Greece. 
Yet  'mid  these  shouts,  and  circled  with  this  crown, 
I  here  do  blush  that  I  can  boast  no  scar, 
While  I  see  those  who  from  grim  battle  pluck'd, 
Not  graceful  wreaths,  but  victory  with  wounds. 
The  private  soldier  bears  the  brunt  of  war, 
And  wins  the  garland  his  commander  wears. 
There  stands  a  man  whose  arm  is  on  the  field, 
And  at  his  side  is  one  who  left  his  blood. 
That  soldier's  eyes,  pierced  through,  see  not  this 

pomp, 

While  he,  a  sailor,  on  a  grappling  ship 
Lost  both  his  hands,  which,  dropping,  tinged  the 

sea. 
Ton  brave  man's  breast  was  fill'd  with  Scythian 

darts, 

And  from  this  vet'ran's  flesh  I  pluck'd  a  spear. 
Go  where  the  jackals  yell  and  vultures  fly, 
To  find  their  dust  who  saved,  and  smile  o'er 

Greece  ! 
Where  battle  laid  them  low,  carved  from  their  spoils, 


A  HI S TON. 


137 


To  them  immortal  monuments  shall  rise ; 
While  on  our  coins,  and  chanted  in  our  songs, 
Their  names  shall  teach  our  sons  to  die  for  Greece. 
Eternal  Freedom  lives  in  martyr  deeds. 


THE   JEWISH   CAPTIVES. 


THE   JEWISH   CAPTIVES. 
ACT   I. 

SCENE  I. — A  Private  Garden  in  Babylon. 


ELI. 

;  Y  gentle  Eva,  tune  thy  harp,  and  sing 
Till  these  blind  eyes  see  old  Judea's 

hills, 
And  feel  the  captive's  comfort  of  a  tear. 

EVA. 

Oh !  father,  in  these  strings  still  sleeps  a  spell 
To  charm  away  each  sorrow  from  thy  soul, 
But  my  sad  touch  can  wake  no  music  now  ; 
When  circling  hawks  cast  shadows  on  its  nest, 
The  bird  to  Heav'n  trills  not  its  morning  joy. 

ELI. 

I  love  to  hear  the  songs  of  thy  young  life ; 
More  sad  my  gloom,  more  deep  my  solitude, 
Without  thy  harp  and  lip  to  give  me  cheer. 


142     THE    JEWISH    CAPTIVES. 

EVA. 

'Tis  soul,  and  not  the  sound,  melts  grief  away  ; 

Song  loves  liberty  as  the  birds  love  light, 

And  when  the  cage  is  still  the  grove  bursts  forth. 

Just  as  the  heart  is  bound  the  lip  is  cold. 

But,  father,  on  yon  willow  let  me  hang 

My  silent  harp,  and  tell  to  thee  my  dream, 

And  when  my  cloud  has  pass'd  my  song  may  flow. 

ELI. 

My  Eva,  take  my  hand,  and  lead  me  where 
Oft  with  thy  mother  I  have  stood  and  gazed  ; 
Her  image  there,  she  whispers  through  my  gloom. 
[EvA  guides  ELI  to  the  willow,  against  which  she 
places  Tier  harp,  when  they  sit  under  the  shade 
on  a  grassy  bank]. 

EVA. 

Father,  would  thou  couldst  see  yon  golden  sky 
Where  paints  the  sun  his  crimson  on  the  clouds  ; 
The  light  and  shadow  chasing  o'er  the  grass  ; 
These  oaks  that  join  their  patriarchal  limbs 
Across  yon  stream,  bright-flashing  when  'tis  seen, 
Yet  murmuring  music  though  its  way  be  hid, 
And  teaching  us,  if  dark  our  path,  to  sing  ! 

ELI. 

No  light  for  these  poor  eyes  shut  up  in  gloom, 
But  morn  and  noon  and  night  to  me  the  same. 
When  blindness  came,  at  first  my  heart  grew  hard  ; 


THE    JEWISH   CAPTIVES.      143 

Oh  !  now  within  a  sun,  no  more  to  set, 
Outshining  him  who  fills  the  earth  and  sky. 
Quick,  Eva,  tell  thy  dream  ! 
EVA. 

My  mother's  voice 

Comes  back  like  angel-whispers  in  the  eve, 
As  she  once  told  the  story  of  thy  home 
That  smiled  'mid  bloom  above  the  temple  hill. 
My  memory  hears  around  Jerusalem 
The  tramp  of  men,  the  thunder-bursting  yells, 
And  blows  upon  the  gates — along  the  streets 
The  clang  of  hoofs  and  the  wild  noise  of  war, 
While  flames  I  see  that  from  the  temple  roll, 
And  glare  o'er  heav'n,  as  when  my  mother  spoke. 
I  feel  again  the  pain  of  your  long  march, 
To  reach  a  captive's  place  where  false  gods  rule. 
Father,  in  dreams  last  night  I  saw  your  dear 
Old  home  wrapp'd  round  with  fire,  and  forth  I  rose, 
It  seeni'd,  out  from  the  flames,  when,  as  I  flew, 
Some  monster  clasp'd  me  shrieking  round  my 

waist 

And  bore  me  high  o'er  clouds,  until  we  dropp'd 
Within  a  palace-hall  of  Babylon. 

ELI. 

My  Eva,  cease  this  tale  which  pains  my  ear ; 
Some  midnight  magic  has  call'd  forth  bad  dreams, 
Or  fever  in  thy  brain  wakes  shapes  of  fire ; 


144      THE    JEWISH    CAPTIVES. 

Or  evil  angels  have  lurk'd  o'er  thy  couch. 

Not  from  the  Source  of  Good  wild  phantoms  come. 

ETA. 

Father,  this  dream  leaves  on  my  breast  a  weight 
Like  some  cold  stone,  while  in  my  head  whirls  fire. 

Enter  ABNER  and  ONO. 

ELI. 

Ha  !  lads,  I  know  your  steps,  and  my  old  ear 
Grows  quick  to  hear  how  goes  the  city's  siege. 

ABXER. 

Thy  prophets,  father,  have  deceived  us  Jews 
With  words  as  false  and  frail  as  painted  mists ; 
Thy  priests  must  now  the  light  from  Heav'n  bring 

back 

By  death-drops  from  the  heart  of  some  poor  lamb 
Whose  pangs  should  blast,  not  bless  its  murderers. 

ELI. 

My  son,  speak  not  in  scorn  of  things  now  hid 
Behind  the  cloud  that  veils  thy  Maker's  plans ! 
ABNEE. 

Jehovah  sleeps  while  Baal  crowns  his  sons ; 
They  sit  in  purple  and  we  weep  in  dust. 

oxo. 

The  captive's  wail  shall  turn  to  triumph  song 
With  Him  who  rules  a  cycle  is  a  day ; 
We  wait,  or  trust,  or  strike  as  He  may  say. 


THE    JEWISH    CAPTIVES.      145 

ABNER. 

The  two-leaved  gates  defy  the  Persian's  blows : 
Her  walls  like  mountains  stand  round  Babylon. 
Here  fields  and  gardens  bloom,  and  Plenty  smiles 
With  stores  piled  up  to  Heav'n,  while  gaunt 

without 

The  troops  of  Cyrus  stalk  like  skeletons, 
And  boys  and  women  mock  them  from  the  towers. 
Their  very  banners  hang  with  sickly  droop 
As  if  they  shrank  away  from  vigorous  winds. 
Factions  divide,  the  hungry  nations  jar  ; 
And  men  thy  prophets  said  would  break  our  chains 
Will  see  their  armies  soon  like  clouds  dissolve. 

ONO. 

Cousin,  despair  and  youth  should  never  wed, 
More  than  the  frost  should  marry  with  the  fire ; 
Let  Faith  and  Hope  smile  angels  on  our  path, 
And  they  will  nerve  our  hearts  for  victory. 

ELI. 

Yes  !    through  my  gloom  a  cloud  of  glory  gleams 
Bright  o'er  thy  rebuilt  towers,  Jerusalem  ! 
Belshazzar's  gorgeous  piles  shall  shake  and  fall ! 
O'er  them  shall  darkness  brood,  and  hoot  the  owl, 
And  the  lean  fox  lone  o'er  their  ruins  look, 
While  Zion's  hill  stands  in  eternal  light ! 

\_Here  EVA,  ivho  Juts  retired  behind  the  trees,  takes 
her  harp  and  sings. 


146      THE.   JEWISH    CAPTIVES. 

EVA. 

Brother,  trust !  'tis  God  hath  spoken  ! 

Israel  soon  will  cease  to  roam  ! 
Brother,  trust !  each  battle-token 

Soon  will  show  us  near  our  home  ! 

God  has  call'd — the  nations  hearken  ; 

Round  our  walls  their  banners  fly ; 
Over  earth  their  armies  darken  ; 

Send  their  shouts  into  the  sky. 

Hark  !  on  stones  a  hoof  is  ringing  ! 

Arms  on  arms  !  I  hear  the  clash ! 
Up  to  Heav'n  the  flames  are  springing  ! 

Wild  o'er  Babylon  their  flash  ! 

There  I  see  a  monarch  lying ! 

Blazes  round  a  banquet's  light ! 
Blood  is  on  him,  gasping,  dying — 

Torn  his  crown  and  gone  his  might ! 

One  king  lies  there  grim  and  gory, 
Crown'd  his  victor  I  behold ! 

Over  Zion  bursts  new  glory  ! 
Stands  her  temple  as  of  old  ! 


THE    JEWISH    CAPTIVES.      147 

SCENE  II. — A  room  in  tlie  house  of  ELI  overlooking 
a  garden. 

ONO. 

APTIVITY  makes  gloom,  and  tries  our 

hearts ; 
'   Yet  morn  shall  come  from  night  with  sun 

and  song. 

ABNER. 

But  ere  the  dawn  my  youth  in  me  is  dead  : — 

My  life  a  void,  and  yet  an  agony. 

I  hate  myself,  and  oft  my  Maker  hate, 

And  feel  that  I  would  hurl  Him  from  His  throne. 

'Twas  He,  not  I,  who  made  me  thus  for  pain. 

Who  forges  chains,  and  wakes  the  pangs  of  war, 

And  stains  with  blood  a  world  He  strews  with 

graves, 

Forcing  from  man  this  universal  wail  ? 
I,  a  mortal,  would  relieve  the  woe, 
While  He  who  can,  you  say,  nor  hears,  nor  helps. 

ONO. 

Thy  youth  is  aged,  thy  hair  is  early  grey 
With  bitterness,  which,  not  thy  years,  makes  old. 
What  robs  the  eye  of  fire,  and  blood  of  joy 
With  nature  wars — of  evil  root  ill  fruit. 

ABNER. 

Ono,  we  have  enough  to  craze  our  souls. 


148      THE    JEWISH    CAPTIVES. 

See  on  the  throne  of  Babylon  a  fool, 

Yet  flashing  in  his  splendour  like  a  god, 

"Whose  nod  can  make  the  streets  run  with  our 

blood, 

And  hang  a  dangling  Jew  from  every  tree, 
Then  cut  us  down,  and  turn  us  o'er  to  dogs  ! 
Yes  !   Eli  is  a  slave — Belshazzar,  king ; 
Virtue  in  chains  and  tyranny  in  gold. 
A  life  like  ours  can't  find  a  grave  too  soon. 

ONO. 

Belshazzar  is  a  captive  to  his  lusts, 
And  Eli  monarch  by  his  goodness  crown'd, 
In  wisdom  rich  and  throned  in  hearts  he  loves. 

ABNER. 

I'm  tired  of  this  old  tale,  and  life's  dull  pain  ; 
Weary  with  heart-beats  and  the  load  I  bear. 
Along  our  streets  the  boys  shout  out,  "  A  Jew !  " 
The  simpering  girl  will  smirk  and  whisper,  "  Jew ! " 
The  beggar  sneering  cries,  "  A  Jew  !    A  Jew  !  " 
The  slave  will  mutter  as  he  mocks  us,  "  Jew!  " 
Could  God  thus  curse  his  sons,  and  bless  their 

foes? 
His  throne  seems  void,  His  universe  a  blank. 

oxo. 
Thy  thoughts  in  words  but  make  the  pang  more 

sharp ; 
The  stem  that  feels  the  knife  gives  brightest  bloom, 


THE    JEWISH    CAPTIVES.      149 

Fields   torn  with,  ploughs  wave  with  the  richest 

gold, 
And  loudest  tempests  leave  the  sweetest  calm. 

ABNEE. 

Ono,  mere  words  ;  the  thorn  will  pierce  thee,  too  ; 
There  is  in  each  some  spot  most  sensitive 
Which  will  resent  the  steel.     Cut  other  flesh, 
The  man  is  still ;   touch  that,  and  he  will  smite. 

ONO. 

There  is  from  Heaven  a  help  to  those  who  trust. 
ABNEE  (pointing  through  a  window  to  EVA  leading 

ELI  through  the  garden}. 
Behold   a   sight  that   should    draw   tears    from 

rocks, 

And  ask  if  it  will  bring  one  drop  from  Heaven  ? 
See  Innocence  lead  Age  along  yon  walk  ! 
'Tis  Beauty  helping  Wisdom  on  in  love. 
Think  of  that  angel  in  Belshazzar's  arms  ! 
Ha  !  thou  dost  start !  the  point  is  in  thine  heart ; 
The  pallor  of  thy  cheek  shows  me  thy  faith. 

oxo. 

Jehovah,  save  her  from  the  monster's  clasp  ! 
Ne'er  let  him  blast  the  bloom  of  my  sweet 

flower  ! 

ABNEE. 

Pray  not,  but  strike — strike  to  the  tyrant's  heart : 
Thy  sword  will  save  her  better  than  thy  trust. 


150      THE    JEWISH    CAPTIVES. 

ONO. 

There  is  a  time  to  suffer  and  to  slay ; 

When  Heaven  will  have  us  smite  it  shows  the  way. 

Enter  GoRGiAS  and  ATTS,  Officers  of  BELSHAZZAR. 

ABNER. 

Whence  do  ye  come,  and  what  your  errand  here  ? 
Who   hear  our  words  by  stealth  must  feel  our 
swords. 

ATTS. 

Be  calm,  brave  Jew,  and  hold  us  as  thy  friends  ! 
We  too  have  felt  at  last  the  tyrant's  heel ; 
Goaded  too  deep  the  ass  himself  rebels. 

ABXER. 

Made  near  by  common  wrongs,  we  welcome  you  ! 
My  hope  revives  !    A  cloud  lifts  from  our  race ; 
I  feel  the  blush  of  shame  for  my  despair. 
Light  hence  with  us — with  Babylon  the  gloom ! 

ONO. 

But  tell  us,  princes,  why  ye  seek  us  here, 

And  we  will  swear  with  you  to  right  our  wrongs. 

QORGIAS. 

Both  crime  and  folly  shake  Belshazzar's  throne ; 
Within,  oppression  drains  the  empire's  veins, 
Without,  'tis  destiny  has  arm'd  our  foe. 
The  gorgeous  pile  nods  o'er  the  brink  of  fate, 
And  needed  but  one  touch  to  dash  it  down. 


THE    JEWISH    CAPTIVES.      151 

Atys,  recount  the  tyrant's  last  mad  blow ! 

My  gasping  son  would  choke  my  words  with  groans. 

ATYS. 

The  park  ye  know,  in  which,  high  o'er  our  walls, 
The  terraced  garden  mounts  amid  the  clouds ; 
Well,  near  its  base  of  bloom,  on  flying  steeds 
We  chased  a  boar  ;  Belshazzar  led  the  way. 
In  his  swift  flight  the  tusky  monster  turn'd  ; 
Belshazzar  hurl'd  his  spear  with  girlish  arm, 
And  headlong  sprawl'd  on  earth  beneath  his  horse 
Close  to  the  glaring  boar,  which  rush'd  on  him, 
When,  quick,  Ozona's  sword  was  in  the  beast, 
That  sent  its  spouting  blood  to  stain  the  king ; 
And  then,  ye  gods,  the  tyrant  struck  the  lad, 
Who  fell  down  dead  beneath  his  father's  feet ! 

ONO. 

That  blow  sounds  out  the  knell  of  Babylon, 
Beats  down  her  walls  and  shakes  her  shatter'd 

throne, 

The  Persian  crowns,  and  sends  the  Jew  forth  free 
To  build  again  Jerusalem,  our  joy  ! 

ABNER. 

Princes,  we  will  dare  all  to  burst  our  chains  ! 
But  tell  us  how  that  we  can  give  you  aid. 

ATYS. 

Cyrus,  we  hear,  grows  weary  with  the  siege, 
His  troops  desert,  his  stores  and  hopes  are  low ; 


152      THE    JEWISH  CAPTIVES. 

Fame  says  ye  have  a  scroll  that  gives  his  name, 

Foretelling,  ages  since,  his  victory ; 

To  him  we'd  bear  the  book,  and  nerve  his  heart. 

Enter  ELI  led  by  EVA. 

ABNER. 

My  father  see— this  blind  old  man  who  comes  ! 
That  book  he  deems  the  gift  of  Heav'n  to  us  ; 
Xor  could  a  kingdom  buy  it  from  his  grasp. 

ELI. 

The  winds  have  borne  strange  voices  to  mine  ear, 
And  in  their  breath  I  scent  some  coming  joy. 

ONO. 

Here,  uncle,  stand  two  princes  next  the  throne, 
Who,  outraged  by  the  king,  his  ruin  plan. 

ELI. 

Hail,  blest  of  Heav'n  !     Our  deliverers,  hail ! 
O'er  these  blind  eyes  hope  streams  prophetic  light. 
But  what  your  plans  ? 

ONO. 

Our  Holy  book 

They  would  to  Cyrus  bear,  and  show  his  name, 
And  where  'tis  said  he'll  pass  the  two-leaved  gates. 

ELI. 

Never  shall  Gentile  hands  the  Word  profane 
If  Israel  linger  here  to  die  in  chains  ! 
But  ye,  my  children,  ye  shall  take  the  scroll ! 


THE   JEWISH    CAPTIVES.       353 

Oh  !  Heav'n  guard  well  the  gift  bestow'd  on  me  ! 
[ELi  is  led  by  EVA  to  a  golden  chest,  and  unlocking 

it,  he  lifts  out  a  large  parchment. 
Accept  the  trust,  and  unto  blood  defend, 
And  swear  that  ye  will  bring  it  to  these  hands  ! 
Ono,  swear  ! 

ONO. 
I  swear  ! 

ELI. 

Abner,  thou ! 

ABNER. 

I  swear ! 

ELI. 

Can  ye  unbar  your  gates,  and  scale  your  walls 
To  Cyrus  reach  ? 

GORGIAS. 

A  passage  deep  beneath 

Our  streets  will  lead  us,  devious,  to  the  plain, 
And  near  the  Persian  camp,  while  here  its  keys — 
My  family  trust ! 

ELI. 

Go,  with  my  blessing,  go  ! 

Jehovah  guide  you  through  the  cavern'd  earth  ! 
Jehovah  move  the  Persian's  royal  soul ! 
These  feet  shall  touch  the  land  I  may  not  see ! 
These  ears  shall  hear  the  song  on  Zion's  hill 
When  to  the  skies  our  temple  lifts  its  head  ! 


154      TEE    JEWISH    CAPTIVES. 

GORGIAS. 

But  now,  good  Jew,  we  must  pierce  to  thy  heart, 
To  save  from  worse  than  death  one  thou  dost  love. 

ELI. 

This  breast  has  felt  the  storm  so  fierce  and  oft 
That,  like  a  trunk  scarr'd  on  the  mountain's  top, 
It  dreads  no  blast  that  roars  to  make  it  fall. 

GORGIAS. 

Thy  daughter,  Jew,  thy  daughter  should  retire, 
That  we  may  speak  to  thee. 

EVA. 

Heav'n  in  my  dreams 

Has  show'd  it  me,  when  I,  borne  in  mid-air, 
Was  by  a  monster  clasp' d — Belshazzar,  he. 

ATYS. 

Too  true,  too  true  !     He  marks  thee  for  his  own  ! 
The  tiger's  spring  less  sure  than  his  foul  lust, 
Whose  snares  would  lure  thy  beauty  to  his  arms. 

EVA. 

Father,  speak  not,  nor  roll  thine  eyes  in  pain  ! 

Nor,  Abner,  grasp  thy  sword,  and  glare  so  fierce ! 

My  Ono,  stand  not  like  despair  in  stone ! 

Now  in  this  hour  which  tests  my  faith  in  Heav'n 

I  feel  within  the  might  of  virtue  lives 

To  breathe  a  conquering  vigour  through  my  soul ; 

And  oh !  a  shield  so  strong  is  over  me 

That  its  bright  face  will  dazzle  my  foul  foe. 


THE    JEWISH    CAPTIVES.      155 

No  stain  shall  ever  mar  my  virgin  bloom, 
But  from  Belshazzar  I  will  come  as  pure 
As  the  fresh  leaf  of  my  own  morning  rose, 
Which  knows  no  kiss  save  of  the  dew  and  breeze. 
Omnipotent  the  might  of  virtue's  power ; 
A  true  pure  heart  is  an  immortal  flower. 


SCENE  III. — A  Piazza  on  the  Hanging  Garden. 

BELSHAZZAR. 

WHIM,  Atossa,  call  it  what  thou  wilt, 
Me  like  a  bubble  lures,  and  I  do  chase 
The  glittering  thing,  since  'tis  my  destiny. 

ATOSSA. 

My  royal  insect,  say,  o'er  what  flower  next, 
To  sip  its  sweets,  wilt  wave  thy  brilliant  wings  ? 
Soon  from  this  world  its  honey  suck'd,  the  gods 
Must  make  a  better  one  ;  and  then  for  thee, 
When  each  is  stale,  a  brighter  than  the  old, 
And  thus  for  ever  on. 

BELSHAZZAR. 

Immortal  jest ! 

Wit,  mirth,  wine,  women,  feasts  and  priests  in  turn 
Have  to  my  hours  tied  wings  and  painted  them, 
Till  they  would  fly  like  clouds  to  leave  me  blank. 


156        THE  JEWISH  CAPTIVES. 

ATOSSA. 

Thou  king  of  kings,  what  phantom  lures  thee  now, 
Since  thou  dost  look  like  some  sick  lad  in  love  ? 

BELSHAZZAR. 

Atossa,  laugh,  and  I'll  endure  thy  jests, 
For  thou  art  but  myself  in  woman's  form  ; 
Nor  polish'd  steel  thine  image  gives  more  true 
Than  thou  art  mirror'd  in  thy  brother's  soul. 

ATOSSA. 

While  Cyrus  girdles  round  thy  throne  with  war, 
Would  I  could  lead  thee  off  from  virgins'  breasts 
To  stand  with  men  in  battle  for  thy  crown  ! 

BELSHAZZAR. 

War  is  the  work  of  fools — to  wear  a  helm 
And  plume,  and  live  shut  up  in  brass, 
And  thirst,  and  starve,  and  stagger  'neath  your  toil, 
Then  hack  and  kill  to  pile  o'er  plains  with  men 
Whose  flesh  shall  fatten  dogs,  and  for  your  pay 
A  rabble's  shout,  this  glory's  vaunted  prize 
Which  Cyrus  loves,  and  can  have  for  himself 
While  last  my  stores,  and  walls  resist  his  blows. 
With  wine  and  love  I  still  will  brighten  life, 
My  crown  esteem  just  for  the  joys  it  brings, 
And  when  these  die,  the  bauble  give  my  foe. 

ATOSSA. 

A  boy  art  thou,  Belshazzar,  not  a  king. 
But  now  the  secret  that  doth  load  thy  heart ! 


THE  JEWISH   CAPTIVES.       1.17 

BELSHAZZAR. 

Sister,  I  love,  in  truth  at  last  I  love  ; 
The  snarer  snared — and  more,  I  would  be  loved, 
And  if  not  loved  I'm  lost,  and  at  an  end 
This  insect  life,  stifled  by  its  gay  threads. 

ATOSSA. 

Nay,  brother,  nay  !  the  royal  whim,  will  pass, 
And  thou  wilt  lie,  flower-crown'd,  on  beauty's 

breast, 

Or  sit  gay-garlanded  where  flows  the  wine, 
And  song  floats  out  with  harp  and  dulcimer. 

BELSHAZZAE. 

A  rose  of  Sharon  in  my  palace  blooms 

More  dear  to  me  than  crowns,  and  on  my  breast 

I'll  wear  my  Jewish  flower,  or  die  accursed. 

The  soul  was  in  me  once  to  make  a  man, 

But  I  was  born  a  king — that  blasted  it. 

'Tis  love  must  turn  my  blight  to  bloom,  and  fit 

Me  for  my  diadem  ;  or,  oh  !  ye  flowers, 

Ye  trees  on  terraces  piled  into  heav'n 

By  my  great  ancestor — ye  walls  he  rear'd 

O'ertopping  clouds — thou   watch-tower  lone  of 

stars — 

Ye  palaces  and  trophied  monuments, 
Built  from  a  phinder'd  world  to  blaze  our  fame, 
But  stain'd  with  tears  and  blood,  link'd  with  you 
all 


158       TEE  JEWISH    CAPTIVES. 

By  fate,  must  I  too  fall,  and  share  your  curse  ? 
Death's  pulse  beats  in  my  life  as  oft  I  hear 
Wild  shrieks  drown  mirth  beneath  my  battlements. 
A  sword  waves  o'er  yon  towers,  and  round  my 

crown 

*A  serpent  coils,  and  sins  of  ages  flame, 
Until  I  seem  like  that  last  mountain-pine 
Whose  shroud  of  fire  is  the  whole  forest's  blaze. 

ATOSSA. 

What  means  thy  mood  and  tones  of  prophecy  ? 
This  feather  see,  whose  history  I  will  tell ! 
As  I  stood  here  to  view  the  Persian  camp 
Whose  arms  and  banners  glitter'd  in  the  sun, 
On  a  white  horse  rode  Cyrus  grandly  forth, 
And  while  I  gazed,  a  brilliant  bird  flash'd  by, 
On  which  down  from  the  clouds  an  eagle  swoop'd, 
With  beak  to  bear  aloft  the  crested  thing, 
When  circling  to  my  feet  this  feather  fell. 

BELSHAZZAR. 

Give  me  the  painted  plume — sign  of  myself, 
The  sport  of  winds — to  place  it  in  my  crown 
Above  mine  empire's  gems,  a  type  of  fate  ! 
But  hark,  a  hell-bird  comes  to  croak  my  doom  ! 

ATOSSA. 

I  will  retire,  nor  hear  our  mother  rage. 

[ATOSSA  exit. 


THE   JEWISH    CAPTIVES.      159 

BELSHAZZAR. 

I  will  not  fear,  but  pay  her  with  her  own  ; 
This  plume  stuck  in  my  crown  will  madden  her. 

Enter  NITOCRIS  and  MADETES. 

NITOCRIS. 

A  feather  in  thy  cap — fit  diadem 

For  thee,  thou  king  of  mighty  Babylon  ! 

BELSHAZZAR. 

'Tis  this  I  wear  which  to  my  nature  suits 
That  I  did  suck  out  from  those  queenly  breasts. 

NITOCRIS. 

Nay  !  from  thy  nurse  thy  folly  flow'd  to  thee ; 
Nor  blood  nor  milk  of  mine  made  such  a  son. 
But  play  no  more  the  boy  !  that  plume  take  off ! 
Put  on  thy  helm,  and  grasp  thy  sword  and  shield  ! 
Where  harps  and  moonlit  pipes  now  soothe  thy 

sense 

Let  trumpets  peal  the  battle-blast  of  war  ! 
Thy  robes  of  silk  exchange  for  links  of  steel ! 
The  smiles  of  women  for  fierce  blows  with  men  ! 
Thy  feasts  for  fasts,  thy  shame  for  victory  ! 

BELSHAZZAR. 

Cease,  mother,  cease  ! 

NITOCRIS. 

Arm,  Belshazzar,  arm  ! 
Down  from  this  height  your  leaguer'd  city  view, 


1GO     THE   JEWISH    CAPTIVES. 

Her  glory  circled  by  eternal  walls  ! 
Earth's  crown  is  now  for  thee  to  hold  or  lose. 
Where  stood  thine  ancestor  with  kingly  eye 
To  see  arise  his  work,  there  wilt  thou  stand 
To  see  it  fall  ?  the  towers  he  built,  wilt  thou 
Look  hence  on  them  while  Persians  hurl  them 

down? 
Say,  came  from  me,  my  son,  a  soul  like  that  ? 

BELSHAZZAE. 

I  beg  thee,  stop  ! 

NITOCRIS. 

And  I  do  beg  thee  fight ! 

MADETES. 

Low  on  the  earth  I  crawl  and  grasp  thy  knees ; 
Thy  faithful  eunuch  prays  thee  save  thy  crown. 

BELSHAZZAR. 

'Tis  ye,  if  Cyrus  wear  it,  are  the  cause. 

NITOCRIS. 

This  is  thy  folly  now  to  madness  turn'd  ! 
Give  me  thy  diadem  !     Thine  armour  fit 
Around  thy  mother's  form  !     Above  her  brow 
Thy  helm  should  wave  its  plume  !  Her  hand  will 

hurl 

For  thee  amid  the  battle's  shock  thy  spear ; 
And  when  our  foe  shall  fly  it  shall  be  told 
Along  our  streets,  and  thunder'd  up  to  clouds, 
That  thine  old  mother  saved  for  thee  thy  realm, 


THE    JEWISH    CAPTIVES.         161 

While  them,  bedeck'd  with  flowers,  and  lull'd  by 

lutes, 
Didst  on  thy  couches  feast  with  concubines. 

BELSHAZZAE. 

Insult  me  not — thy  king  as  well  as  son ! 

I  blame  thee  for  a  mother's  too  fond  love. 

My  youth  was  flush'd  with  noble  dreams  of  war, 

The  trumpet  stirr'd  my  pulses  into  fire, 

Until  I  sought  the  field  to  be  a  king. 

Thy  coward  love  did  hedge  me  in  with  boys, 

Where  Pleasure  tied  me  with  her  silken  cords, 

And  took  the  manhood  from  my  pamper'd  soul ; 

But  who  has  power  to  win  will  keep  his  crown  ; 

Brave  men  will  scorn  weak  kings,  and  hurl  them 

down. 

Thus  those  to  empire  born  dig  their  own  graves, 
While  enterprise  takes  strength  from  wave  and 

storm, 

To  crush  voluptuous  heirs  and  moutn  their  thrones. 
I  see  the  truth  too  late  to  shun  my  doom ; 
Eternal  Fate  mine  empire  sinks  in  gloom. 


162       THE  JEWISH  CAPTIVES. 


ACT   II. 

SCENE  I. — The  Camp  of  CYRUS  before  Babylon. 

CTEUS. 

I IRST,  destiny  I  trust,  and  then  the  gods, 
And  last  niyself. 

ABEADATES. 

Forgive  our  doubt,  0  king, 
And  that  we  tire  of  this  dull,  dragging  siege  ; 
Despair  looks  from  the  faces  of  our  men. 
Better  our  armies  move  by  thy  command, 
Than  troops  of  thine  steal  home  like  fugitives. 

GYGES. 

'Tis  two  years  since  'mid  shouts  thy  hand  did  give 
Our  banner  to  the  winds  before  these  walls. 
While  we  are  lank,  flush'd  Plenty  smiles  within, 
And  those  unshaken  towers  laugh  at  our  rams. 

ABEADATES. 

The  clash  of  arms  'mid  battle's  breath  of  fire 
And  tug  of  death,  we  love — not  idle  war. 

CYEUS. 

True  soldiers  wait,  or  fight  as  gods  decree, 
Whose  smile  alone  points  on  to  victory. 


THE  JEWISH    CAPTIVES.       163 

ABRADATES. 

N"ever  since  first  my  wheels  in  battle  rush'd 
Have  whirl'd  my  steeds  my  chariot  from  the  foe  : 
Yet  now  I'd  hear  the  trumpet  sound  retreat. 

CYRUS. 

Such  blast,  my  friend,  will  never  please  thine  ear. 
With  beauty  robed,  as  Panthea  smiles  on  thee, 
So  Babylon,  my  queen,  still  lures  me  on 
To  bind  the  crown  of  Persia  on  her  brow. 

ABRADATES. 

Fast  as  my  steeds,  whose  fire  is  from  the  sun, 
Can  draw  my  grateful  wheels,  I'll  go  with  thee. 

CYRUS. 

Despairing  Croesus,  too,  I  tell  thee  now, 

So  sure  as  thou  wast  pluck' d  from  cruel  fire, 

I'll  mount  yon  tower  whose  head  strikes  on  the  stars, 

And  fling  from  thence  my  flag  o'er  Babylon. 

CRCESUS. 

O  king,  I  yield  to  thee,  and  doubt  no  more ; 

What  Cyrus  wills  in  war  is  destiny. 

But  give,  we  beg,  the  reasons  of  thy  faith. 

CYRUS. 

True  men  have  one  prime  object  of  their  lives 
Which  Heaven  helps  on,  and  all  below  are  steps 
Like  climbing  stairs  that  circle  round  a  tower 
To  gain  its  top,  and  give  us  prospect  wide. 
Up  to  one  grand  event  which  caps  the  whole 


164       THE  JEWISH  CAPTIVES. 

Mounts  every  step  of  my  predestin'd  past. 

My  Persian  birth,  the  breath  of  liberty, 

The  discipline  that  nerved  both  flesh  and  soul, 

And  throned  as  lord  of  all  my  will : 

The  royal  splendours  then  of  Media's  court, 

Nay  !  e'en  my  grandsire's  polish'd  luxury  ; 

Each  after-move  on  this  chess-board  of  life, 

Where  Fate  ranged  men  around  me  as  their  king, 

But  bore  me  on  to  fix  my  banner  here. 

My  dreams  in  youth  were  fiush'd  with  Babylon, 

And  when  they  troop'd  like  gorgeous  clouds  along 

She  was  the  sun  that  lit  their  splendours  up. 

My  manhood  now  stands  center'd  in  her  light ; 

Take  her  away,  my  path  is  all  a  gloom, 

My  life  a  chaos  of  discordant  plans  ; 

With  her  in  view,  one  blaze  of  victory ! 

As  day's  consenting  beams  meet  in  the  sun, 

So  all  my  being  ends  in  Babylon. 

Enter  GOEGIAS  and  ATTS  with  ABNEK  and  ONO, 
guarded  by  Persian  Soldiers. 

Say,  who  are  these  with  beards  and  hair  forlorn, 
And  hunger  lean,  and  garments  soil'd  by  earth  ? 
In  these  I  seem  to  see  our  way  made  plain. 

OFFICER. 

We  heard,  0  king  !  beneath  the  ground  a  cry 
Suppress'd  and  faint,  as  shook  the  soil  with  blows  ; 


EWISH    CAPTIVES.      165 

mdes,  and  digg'd  down  to  a  stone, 
Dw'd  these  weak  and  groping  men, 
>y  the  light  we  led  to  thee. 

[Officer  retires. 

GORGIAS. 

ias  so  begrimed  and  vile 
annot  discern  his  face  ? 

CYRUS. 

Is  thee  now — I  know  thee  well. 

ince  I  met  in  Lydia  once, 

d  save  me  from  a  lion's  mouth. 

GOEGIAS. 

not  say  that  but  for  me 
abylon  could  ne'er  be  thine. 

CYRUS. 

tou  wilt  not — my  life  thou  saved, 
worn  in  token  of  my  thanks 
rest  with  rampant  paws, 
st,  my  friend,  and  not  my  foe. 

GORGIAS. 

my  brother's  son,  with  me, 

ng  Jews,  here  pledge  thee  swords 

ils. 

II  Jcneel,  and  kiss  the  hand  of  CYRUS. 

CYRUS. 

fiends !    Long  may  I  call  you  such  ! 
brought  you  here  in  such  a  plight ! 


166      THE    JEWISH    CAPTIVES. 

GORGIAS. 

I  seek  my  vengeance  for  my  first-born's  blood — 
My  noble  boy  struck  by  the  tyrant  dead ; 
Atys  joins  with  me  to  avenge  his  kin ; 
These  Jews  would  from  their  country  burst  her 
chains. 

CYRUS. 

Thanks  to  the  gods,  your  guides  to  bring  you  here ! 

GORGIAS. 

We  heard,  0  king,  thy  hopes  had  sunk,  and  soon 
Thy  baffled  army  would  to  Persia  turn. 
These  Jews  have  brought  that  which  will  nerve 

thy  soul, 
Inspire  thy  men,  and  give  thee  Babylon. 

CYRUS. 

I  see,  good  Jews,  ye  bear  an  ancient  scroll 
Which  seems  to  wake  strange  throbbings  in  my 
breast. 

ABNER. 

Within  our  temple,  'neath  a  cloud  of  light, 
An  ark  of  gold  once  held  this  sacred  book 
Which  the  Jehovah  wrote  on  Sinai's  side, 
And  gave  to  Moses  that  our  race  might  guard. 
When  blazed  Chaldean  flames  about  the  place, 
A  priest,  my  sire,  to  save  this  holy  scroll, 
Rush'd  through  the  fire,  and  caught  it  to  his 
breast, 


THE    JEWISH    CAPTIVES.      167 

But  came  out  blind  who  brought  to  us  such  light. 
The  sightless  man  has  kept  his  treasure  hid, 
Till  now  he  sends  us  here  to  show  thy  name 
Writ  down  before  thy  birth,  and  for  this  hour, 
To  gird  thee  on  with  strength  to  Babylon. 
Here  read  that  thou  shalt  pass  the  gates  of  brass, 
Chaldea's  treasures  seize,  and  set  us  free. 
We  hail  thee,  Cyrus,  our  predestiu'd  king  ! 

ALL. 

We  hail  thee  Lord  of  lords,  and  King  of  kings  ! 

[ABNEE  and  ONO  kneel  before  CYRUS  with 
the  open  scroll. 

CYRUS. 

I  read  in  Jewish  characters  my  name, 

And  my  prophetic  work  by  Heav'n  foretold  ; 

A  flash  from  destiny  thus  lights  me  on 

To  drain  the  river,  and  creep  'neath  the  walls. 

I  saw  in  dreams  one  standing  on  a  hill 

Against  the  sky,  and  circled  round  with  rays, 

While  glitter'd  in  his  hand  for  me  a  crown. 

All  things  do  point  us  on  to  Babylon. 


168      THE    JEWISH    CAPTIVES. 


SCENE  II. — A  room  in  the  palace  of  Babylon. 

EVA  (alone). 

SHALL  not  fall,  since  o'er  me  is  His  shield, 
Who  doth  make  pure  the  virgin  lily's 

bloom, 
And  the  bright  stars,  and  the  sweet  breath  of 

Heav'n. 

We  bruise  the  rose  to  get  its  scented  drop, 
And  out  from  me  will  trial  fragrance  fling. 
"Tis  Battle  by  its  blows  keeps  Valour  strong, 
While  Pleasure,  flush  and  full,  smiles  Virtue  down, 
And  bribes  the  guards  about  her  citadel. 
In  hue  and  shape  here  beauty  lives,  here  music 

breathes, 

And  odours  charm,  till  I  swim  in  such  dreams 
As  fancy  paints  in  evening's  magic  tints ; 
The  senses  these  may  please,  not  buy  the  heart. 
True  woman's  love  cannot  be  had  for  crowns ; 
Be  he  a  slave  or  king,  it  seeks  a  man ; 
And  ere  it  find  it  is  a  humming  bird 
To  glance  from  flower  to  flower,  but,  nested  once, 
A  nightingale  that  thrills  out  constant  songs. 

Enter  BELSHAZZAE  in  his  crown  and  royal  rotes. 

BELSHAZZAE. 

A  witch  by  Jewish  law  is  judg'd  to  flames, 


THE   JEWISH    CAPTIVES.       169 
And  she  who  scorches  me  should  burn  herself. 

EVA. 

Why  seek  the  fire  that  never  goes  to  thee  ? 
Thy  parrot  singed  avoids  the  harmful  blaze. 

BELSHAZZAR. 

Thou  art  the  lamp,  and  I  the  moth  that  flies 
To  fall  upon  the  bosom  of  the  flame. 

EVA. 

Nay  !  be  no  more  an  insect  but  a  king ; 
Seek  thou  to  wed  from  thine  own  royal  rank, 
One  who  will  bind  thy  monarch-limbs  in  steel, 
And  urge  thee  drive  the  Persian  from  thy  walls. 

BELSHAZZAR. 

Girl,  I'm  a  fool  to  beg  a  captive's  love 
When  I  could  force  thee  to  my  clasping  arms, 
Where  beauty  o'er  my  realm  but  pants  to  lie. 
Yet  'tis  my  wish  to  hear  thee  say  "  I  love," 
And  see  thee  at  my  side  a  willing  wife. 
I  would  not  break  the  stem  that  holds  the  flower, 
Or  spoil  by  force  the  bloom  that  is  its  pride  ; 
Give  me  thy  heart  and  I  will  be  a  man. 

EVA. 

I  cannot,  king,  since  'tis  another's  right ! 
His,  sign'd  and  seal'd  by  an  eternal  pledge, 
Which,  broke  by  me,  would  worthless  make 

myself — 
A  ring  whose  holes  do  show  the  jewel  gone. 


170     TEE    JEWISH    CAPTIVES. 

BELSHAZZAR. 

To  bless  cannot  be  wrong,  and  thy  pure  love 
Would  make  my  nature  new,  my  passions  tame, 
Start  in  my  breast  the  pulses  of  true  life, 
Enplume  my  brow,  and  case  my  limbs  in  mail, 
Till  I  by  valour  earn'd  the  crown  I  wear. 

EVA. 

What  I  have  sign'd  away  I  cannot  give. 
Could  I  pierce  him  I  love  with  mortal  pain, 
His  vows  betray,  and  trample  on  his  heart, 
And  blast  his  faith  in  me  till  I  would  live 
No  more  his  star,  but  in  his  soul  a  blot  ? 
Thou  art  too  noble,  king,  to  ask  me  this. 

BELSHAZZAE. 

Proud  slave,  I'll  plead  no  more,  nor  let  thee  fling 
My  empire's  crown  away  like  some  worn  toy. 
The  monarch  of  the  world  kneels  down  to  thee, 
And  wilt  thou  say  another  has  thy  love, 
Spurning  thy  king  as  if  he  bark'd,  thy  cur  ? 
My  nod  an  empire  shakes,  and  it  would  bring 
Ten  thousand  here  whose  beauty  rivals  thine. 

EVA. 

Belshazzar,  let  them  come  where  I  will  not. 
Say,  can  thy  sceptre  force  the  rose  to  bloom, 
And  fill  the  morning  with  its  scented  breath  ? 
A  king  may  crush  the  flower,  not  make  it  live, 
And  take  from  hearts  their  blood,  but  not  their  love. 


THE  JEWISH    CAPTIVES.       171 

BELSHAZZAR. 

Slave,  I  can  pluck  the  honey  from  thy  flesh, 
And  leave  a  stain  to  make  thy  lover  loathe — 
Make  thee  in  thine  own  eyes  a  thing  despoil'd. 

EVA. 

Thou,  canst  not,  king  !     I  in  thy  palace  stand, 
Thy  guards  around  with  points  of  flashing  steel, 
An  empire  thine,  yet  in  Jehovah  safe. 
Old  Eli's  prayer  is  stronger  than  thy  throne, 
And  holds  o'er  me  Omnipotence,  my  shield. 

BELSHAZZAR. 

Girl,  that  there  is  in  thee  I  may  not  touch : 
Some  spell  doth  keep  thee  stronger  than  my  lust, 
And  better  guards  thee  than  would  warrior's  mail. 
Repulsed  by  thee  I  rush  on  to  my  doom ; 
The  curse  of  ages  thunders  in  my  breast, 
And  round  my  brow  fall  shadows  from  my  fate. 

{Exit  BELSHAZZAR., 

EVA. 

Belshazzar,  sad  thy  doom  to  be  a  king  ! 
Oh  !  had  thy  gifts  been  nursed  in  poverty, 
Made  hard  by  toil,  and  large  by  enterprise, 
Thy  crown  by  its  own  weight  had  kept  thy  brow  ; 
Ancestral  power  has  sunk  thee  to  a  boy, 
Inviting  daring  to  thy  tottering  realm, 
Where  Cyrus  soon  will  build  a  vigorous  state. 
I  pity  thee !  am  thankless  for  myself. 


172       TEE  JEWISH   CAPTIVES. 

Thou  who  dost  still  the  storm  and  lay  the  wave, 

And  teach  all  evil  to  work  out  Thy  will, 

I  bless  Thee  for  Thy  help  in  peril's  hour  ! 

When  hung  a  cloud  to  flash  on  me  its  curse, 

And  blast  my  life  with  one  eternal  pang, 

Thy  breath  dispell'd,  and  I  stood  crown'd  with  light. 


ACT  III. 

SCENE  I. — A  Eoom  in  the  Palace  of  Babylon. 

BELSHAZZAE. 

wild  beasts  caged  and  fighting  for 
their  food, 
Less  mad  than  priests  who  quarrel  o'er 

their  gods ; 

I'll  prove  that  ye  love  me  e'en  more  than  them. 
Speak,  Smerdis,  first,  and  answer  what  I  urge. 

SMERDIS. 

I  kiss  thy  royal  feet,  and  pray  the  sun 

To  dart  his  radiant  wisdom  through  thy  mind. 

BELSHAZZAE. 

Priest !  I  will  put  thy  faith  to  my  own  test. 
This  image  see  of  wood  !    Is  that  thy  god  ? 


THE  JEWISH  CAPTIVES.       173 

SMERDIS. 

Dazzling  and  vast,  our  Baal  is  yon  sun, 
Whose  universal  light  gives  life  to  all : 
Yet  in  this  statue  doth  his  glory  shrine. 

BELSHAZZAR. 

Thy  god,  the  king  of  heaven,  can  guard  himself, 
And  blast  the  arm  that  hence  would  hurl  him  down ! 

SMERDIS. 

Far  as  his  splendid  beams  can  reach  his  power, 
And  in  their  light  all  wisdom  stands  reveal'd. 

BELSHAZZAR. 

Now  let  thy  god  have  care  !    I  strike  his  head  ! 
There  see  it  roll,  and  rumble  on  the  floor  ! 
This  trunk  is  left,  which  I  do  thus  push  o'er, 
And  order  to  the  fire  and  roast  thy  god. 
First  on  his  neck  I  place  my  kingly  foot ; 
A  mortal  here  insults  immortal  power, 
Nor  feels  its  vengeance  thunder  on  his  brow. 
Renounce  thy  lies,  or  else  renounce  thine  ears  ! 

SMERDIS. 

O'er  me,  O  King,  thy  wisdom  hath  prevail'd. 
If  Baal  will  not  care,  then  care  not  I ; 
Let  thou  mine  ears  be  mine,  my  god  a  lie  ! 

BELSHAZZAR. 

Smerdis,  enough  !     I  see  how  deep  's  thy  faith  ! 
Far  better,  my  Madetes,  is  our  creed  ! 


174      THE    JEWISH    CAPTIVES. 

MADETES. 

From  light  and  darkness  I  think  all  doth  spring. 

To  shrines  and  statues  I  will  nothing  bring ; 

On  altars  I  good  flesh  will  never  throw, 

Since  from  his  god  the  priest  will  steal  I  know. 

The  earth  our  temple  is,  hung  round  by  air, 

Tonheav'n  its  dome,  the  sun,  its  lamp,  shines  there  ; 

Our  world  eternal  in  itself  doth  stand, 

Nor  skies,  nor  stars  need  a  supporting  hand  ; 

From  nothing  we  do  come,  to  nothing  go, 

And  hence  short  lives  should  gild  with  pleasure's 

glow. 

Each  flower  we  want,  we  pluck,  nor  ask  a  god 
What  we  shall  think  or  feel  beneath  the  sod. 

BELSIIAZZAR. 

To  me  most  loyal  truth,  who  will  not  own, 

On  earth,  in  heav'n,  a  power  above  my  throne. 

Since  I  myself  of  all  am  only  king, 

Hence  to  the  winds  all  fears  and  cares  I  fling  ; 

Let  Cyrus  gather  glory  from  his  toil, 

'Tis  pleasure's  bloom  I  snatch,  and  make  my  spoil  ! 

MADETES. 

Majestic  lord  of  all,  stand  firm  by  this — 

Make  this  world  sure,  and  thou  art  sure  of  bliss. 

BELSHAZZAE. 

Old  Eli,  thy  calm  face  doth  trouble  me  ; 
Down  at  my  feet,  blind  Jew,  and  own  me  god  ! 


THE    JEWISH    CAPTIVES.      175 

ELI. 

0  king,  I  worship  Him  who  spread  the  skies, 
The  earth  holds  up,  and  lights  the  sun  and  stars, 
And  kindles  in  each  soul  its  spark  of  life. 

BELSHAZZAR. 

Stop,  Jew  !  beware  !    An  empire's  weight  on  thee 
Shall  crush  thy  faith  and  bend  thee  to  my  will. 

ELI. 

Tear  out  this  tongue,  0  king,  and  rend  these  limbs, 
Torture  my  flesh  with  flames,  my  soul  send  forth 
From  this  poor  body  scarr'd  or  bum'd  by  thee  ! 
Like  Baal's  image  thus  far  I  am  thine  ; 
There  stops  thy  power  !  Beyond,  I  am  mine  own, 
Nor  can  thy  royal  might  my  spirit  force ; 
Jehovah  first  and  last  I  will  adore. 
Thy  records  read !    Learn  how  the  Hebrew  youth 
Walk'd  harmless  in  the  fire  that  burn'd  their 

bonds ; 
An  angel's  hand  was  Daniel's  shield  from  death ! 

BELSHAZZAR. 

The  lies  of  priests  but  by  their  dupes  believed  ! 
Where  is  thy  temple,  Jew  ?  thine  altars  where  ? 
And  where  Jehovah's  prophets  and  his  kings  ? 
Thy  God,  omnipotent,  deserts  His  own, 
And  leaves  His  city  to  the  flames  of  foes  ! 
See  in  thyself  how  silly  is  thy  trust ! 
Blind,  and  captive,  Eli,  curse  thy  God  ! 


176     THE    JEWISH    CAPTIVES. 

ELI. 

'Tis  for  his  sin,  0  king,  that  Israel  serves ; 

This  wreathes  •  our  yoke,  and  robes  our  lives  in 

gloom ; 

When  flow  true  tears  then  grace  to  us  will  flow  ; 
Our  chains  will  then  drop  off,  our  temple  rise, 
While  we  on  our  own  soil  will  kneel  and  praise. 
Firm  as  Himself  Jehovah's  word  shall  stand  ! 

BELSHAZZAR. 

Ha,  Jew  !    A  thought  flies  flashing  o'er  my  brain  ! 
I'll  test  thy  God  !    Down  'neath  our  Baal's  tower, 
Thy  sacred  things  which  in  thy  temple  stood, 
Begirt  by  lamps  and  priests,  now  guarded  lie  ; 
Thy  God  I'll  dare,  and  bring  them  up  from  thence, 
And  they  shall  glitter  on  my  festal  beard. 
Better  serve  me  than  rust  beneath  the  ground  ! 
Thy  God's  own  lamps  shall  shine,  and  see  me  drink 
From  His  blest  goblets  our  bright  Baal's  wine : 
And  mark  it,  Jew,  and  grave  it  on  thy  soul, 
Then  tell  it  to  thy  God,  and  ask  His  help, 
Which  thou  wilt  need — hear,  Jew,  whom  I  do  hate 
Next  to  thy  God — thou  from  Jehovah's  cups 
Shalt  drink  with  me,  or  I  will  torture  thee, 
Then  fling  thee  o'er  our  walls  to  Persian  dogs, 
And  see  how  well  thy  God  will  guard  His  Priest. 


TEE  JEWISH   CAPTIVES.       177 


SCENE  II. — The  Tower  of  Belus. 

BELSHAZZAR. 

LOATHE  to  live,  and  yet  dread  more  to 
die. 

To  hide  the  past  I'd  blot  the  future  out, 
But  from  the  void  of  nothingness  shrink  back. 
I'm  like  some  mount  whose  ice  hides  eating  flames. 
This  sightless  Jew  a  devil  stirs  in  me 
Who  wakes  above  an  Eye  that  looks  me  through. 
One  shatter'd  god  I've  turn'd  by  fire  to  smoke, 
And  here  will  prove  Jehovah  too  a  lie. 

Enter  MADETES. 
Madetes,  brave  old  man,  in  time  for  work ! 

MADETES. 

0  King,  I  go  alone — risk  not  thy  life ! 

BELSHAZZAR. 

By  Baal,  no  !  down  I  will  walk  with  thee 
If  shakes  the  earth ;  and  Heav'n  shall  fall  on  me 
I'll  crown  my  feast,  and  dare  what  Cyrus  dreads ; 
He  offers  to  the  gods  whom  I  defy. 

MADETES. 

Maybe  this  thundering  storm  should  make  thee 
pause. 

BELSHAZZAR. 

Dost  thou  draw  back  ?    Madetes  proved  a  boy, 


178       THE  JEWISH   CAPTIVES. 

And  in  his  lingering  breast  a  fear  of  gods  ! 
Does  this  tower  shake,  and  nod  against  the  winds  ? 
Do  yon  skies  roar,  and  quiver  on  the  clouds 
Quick-flashing  fires  ?     Groans  this  world  now  in 

death  ? 

'Tis  in  the  din  of  such  tempestuous  war 
I  will  descend,  and  beard  this  Jewish  god. 

[They  pass  dotvn  a  dark  stairway,  leading  through 

a  subterranean  aisle,  to  the  place  of  the  sacred 

things. 

MADETES. 

A  dim  and  lonely  place !    Yet  will  we  on  ! 
The  storm's  mad  noise  here  soon  will  die  away. 

BELSHAZZAB. 

Madetes,  stop !  that  song  most  wild  and  strange  ! 

MADETES. 

I  hear  no  sound  save  the  far  tempest's  voice, 
Whose  roarings  sink  to  whispers  in  this  gloom. 

FIEST   SPIRIT. 

From  realms  where  ne'er  can  flash  the  light 
I  come,  I  come  who  make  the  night, 
And  soon,  Belshazzar,  soon  I'll  roll 
Eternal  gloom  around  thy  soul. 

BELSHAZZAR. 

My  pulse  is  calm !  no  drop  is  on  my  brow  ! 
And  yet  I  swear  I  heard  the  words  as  plain 
As  if  they  murmur'd  from  Atossa's  lip. 


THE  JEWISH   CAPTIVES.       179 

SECOND    SPIRIT. 

The  Spirit  of  sound  is  o'er  thee,  King, 

Thro'  earth,  and  thro'  heav'n  whose  thunders  ring ; 

By  this  loud  peal  I  do  warn  thee  now 

To  fly,  or  feel  my  blight  on  thy  brow. 

BELSHAZZAR. 

'Tis  not  my  terror  shapes  such  words  in  air, 
As  I  to  mortal  ears  may  ne'er  repeat. 

MADETES. 

Nay  !  here  all's  still,  howe'er  the  tower  may  ruck. 

BELSHAZZAR. 

For  me,  not  thee  these  warning  angels  sing, 
And  hence  the  aisles  of  sound  in  thee  are  shut. 

THIRD    SPIRIT. 

I  flashing  come,  the  Soul  of  fire  ; 
I  hurl  the  lightnings  in  mine  ire, 
To  blast  along  the  sea 
And  on  the  land  to  kill ; 
So  terrible  their  glee, 
So  fierce  to  do  my  will. 
Back,  false  Belshazzar,  whence  thou  came  ! 
On  thee  I'll  dart  my  zig-zag  flame. 

BELSHAZZAR. 

All  elements  combine — earth,  air,  and  fire  — 
And  Hades  rises  here  to  drive  me  back. 

MADETES. 

Nay,  oh  my  king,  'tis  but  thy  fancy  hears  ; 


180      THE  JEWISH   CAPTIVES. 

Since  round  us  broods  the  silence  of  the  night, 
And  scarce  I  note  our  foot-fall  on  the  stones. 

FOURTH   SPIRIT. 

I'm  the  Spirit  of  Power,  the  Spirit  of  Power, 
To  hurl  down  the  ship,  and  to  shake  down  the  tower; 
'Tis  grim  Death  at  my  side  that  rideth  with  me, 
As  I  rush  o'er  the  land  and  dash  o'er  the  sea. 
I'm  the  Spirit  of  Power,  the  Spirit  of  Power, 
And,  Belshazzar,  go  back,  or  short  is  thine  hour  ! 

BELSHAZZAR. 

Could  I  be  turn'd,  these  words  would  drive  me  off. 
But  see  the  gleam  of  yonder  glittering  lamps 
Which  kindle  in  my  breast  resolve  so  strong, 
Jehovah's  breath  can  never  put  it  out ! 

FIFTH   SPIRIT. 

Thy  blood,  Belshazzar,  from  me  flows, 
Who  won  the  crown  that  round  thee  glows  ; 
Thy  kingdom  stands  built  by  my  hand, 
Thy  scepter  sways  by  my  command. 
Now  by  the  flesh  and  by  the  bones 
Of  all  our  kings  beneath  these  stones  ; 
Now  by  their  souls  which  death  holds  here, 
And  all  their  hope  and  all  their  fear, 
I  warn  thee,  son,  away  !  away  ! 
And  seek  the  realms  where  shines  the  day ; 
Else  on  thy  brow  Fate  writes  thy  doom, 
And  soon  will  hurl  thee  to  thy  tomb, 


THE  JEWISH   CAPTIVES.       181 

While  on  thy  name  and  line  a  blot, 

And  on  thy  soul  eternal  spot. 

Thy  foe  upon  thy  throne  shall  sit, 

Then  Ruin  o'er  his  empire  flit ; 

The  bat  shall  fly,  and  hoot  the  owl, 

The  fox  shall  lurk,  the  wolf  shall  prowl, 

While  Babylon  beneath  the  ground 

Lies  ages  hid  in  dust,  to  be  by  strangers  found. 

BELSHAZZAR. 

Thou  father  of  our  line,  dost  thou  speak  this  ? 
I  hurl  thy  curses  back  upon  thy  head, 
And  still  will  on  where  tempts  our  bright'ning 
prize  ! 

MADBTES. 

The  priests  asleep,  behold  the  sacred  things 
Most  brilliant  in  the  blaze  of  watchful  lamps  ! 
These  holy  curs  snore  well  beneath  the  ground  ! 
Pierce  thou  that  Jew,  0  King,  and  I  will  this  ! 
[BELSHAZZAR  and  MADETES  each  Icills  a  priest. 

BELSHAZZAR. 

Xo  thunders  burst,  nor  lightnings  may  flash  here  ; 
These  vessels  in  our  grasp,  we'll  dare  their  God  ! 

MAUETES. 

The  dastard  priests  I'll  strip,  and  in  their  robes 
Will  tie  our  prize  and  take  it  up  to  light. 

BELSHAZZAR. 

Madetes,  well !  I'll  help  thce  bear  thy  load 


182       THE  JEWISH  CAPTIVES. 

Nor  let  Jehovah  pluck  it  from  my  arms  ! 
A  watchful  God  when  we  can  slay  his  priests, 
Their  garments  take,  and  rob  him  of  his  gold ! 
He  sleeps,  or  feels  that  I'm  the  stronger  king. 
His  arm  is  powerless,  or  he'd  crush  me  now  ; 
Immortal  glory  lights  Belshazzar's  brow. 


ACT   IV. 

SCENE. — The  Banqueting -hall  of  the  Palace ;  BEL- 
SHAZZAE  in  purple  robes,  crowned  and  sceptered  on 
his  throne,  before  him  a  table  ivith  a  goblet  of  wine- 
on  the  mercy-seat  of  the  Jewish  temple.  ELI  on  one 
side,  and  SAMMO,  an  ape,  opposite,  dressed  as  High 
Priest,  SMERDIS  and  MADETES  sitting  just  belov- 
BELSHAZZAE  ;  the  Lords  of  the  Empire  at  a  tabl<> 
extending  around  the  room,  and  near  its  middle  o 
pile  of  the  Jeiuish  sacred  utensils,  while  a  hundred 
spearmen  stand  in  a  square  around  ELI. 

BELSHAZZAE. 

|  Y  Lords,  I'm  king  by  merit,  and  by  birth, 
Since  I  worse  perils  braved  than  Persia's 

wars, 

And  ventured  down  where  Cyrus  dared  not  go. 
These  splendid  gifts  I  from  Jehovah  took, 


THE   JEWISH   CAPTIVES.       188 

While  rock'd  our  frighten'd  tower  up  into  heav'n, 
And  thunder,  storm,  and  fire  'mid  cavern'd  gloom, 
With  warning  spirits,  strove  to  keep  me  back. 
Hence  I  sit  god  of  Earth  !  take  Heav'n  who  will ! 

MADETES. 

From  Jewish  cups  we  pour  to  thee  our  wine  ' 

SMERDIS. 

Once  priest  of  sun  and  moon,  I  worship  thee  ! 

COURTIERS. 

Hail  !    thou  Belshazzar,  hail !  our  king  and  god. 

JJELSIIAZZAi;. 

Am  I  not  better  than  a  power  unseen — 
A  phantom  born  of  fear  and  hence  despised  ~ 
My  crown  can  flash  its  glory  in  your  eyes ; 
My  scepter  ye  behold  grasp' d  by  my  hand, 
As  I  impurpled  sit  on  earth  my  throne ; 
A  god  in  flesh,  and  not  in  wood  or  stone. 

ALL. 

W^e  worship  thee,  Belshazzar,  only  thee  ! 

JiELSHAZZAR. 

And  Sammo  there,  with  grave  and  mitred  brow, 
lu  sacerdotal  robes,  I  name  my  priest ! 
Gone  now  my  faith  in  gods,  I  turn  to  brutes, 
And  feel  a  glowing  brotherhood  with  them. 
Sammo  has  eyes,  and  what  have  we  men  more  ? 
He  hears,  feels,  smells,  and  tastes,  and  so  do  we. 
He  knows,  and  loves,  and  hates  just  like  ourselves, 


184       THE  JEWISH   CAPTIVES. 

In  blood,  and  bone,  and  food,  and  flesh  the  same, 
While  death  will  turn  us  into  common  dust. 
See  Sammo  as  he  drains  Jehovah's  cup, 
And  my  true  priest,  pours  out  his  wine  to  me  ! 
Eli,  my  ape  more  loyal  is  than  thee. 

ELI. 

Blasted  the  hand  and  lip  that  mock  my  God  ! 

BELSHAZZAR. 

Ha  !  thou  dost  curse  me,  Jew,  and  curse  my  priest ! 
Yet'  better  he  than  thee  !     The  ape  has  eyes, 
While  blind  the  Jew  !    The  ape  doth  love  his  king  ; 
The  Jew  doth  hate  !    The  ape  will  reverence 
Where  the  Jew  blasphemes  !   Blest  by  me  the  ape : 
Thou,  Jew,  my  slave,  and  old  and  sightless  too ! 
Forsake  thy  god  who  leaves  thee  thus  to  me  : 
To  Sammo  I  more  kind  than  he  to  thee. 

ELI. 

Clouds  on  His  throne,  above  yet  all  is  bright ; 
Him  I  adore  Who  is  Eternal  Light. 

BELSHAZZAR. 

Around  me  here  my  splendid  empire  sits, 
And  in  this  blaze  of  lamps,  Jew,  thou  shalt  kneel 
Before  my  lords,  and  own  Belshazzar  god. 
Draw  closer,  guards!      Point  at  his  breast  your 
spears  ! 

ELI. 
Thee  I  defy,  but  welcome  give  thy  steel ! 


THE  JEWISH   CAPTIVES.       185 

BELSHAZZAR. 

Thy  lips  have  fix'd  thy  doom  !    Be  ready,  slaves  ! 
Each  aim  his  weapon  true,  and  to  the  heart ! — 
But  stay  your  spears  !     What  writes  on  yonder 

wall? 

A  phantom- hand  moves  there  beneath  a  cloud, 
And  traces  mystic  characters  of  fire  ! 
It  tells  my  tottering  empire's  fate  and  mine  ! 
Jehovah  is  the  god,  and  this  his  hand  ! 
Apostate  Priests,  explain  those  words,  or  die ! 
Ye  tremble  and  are  dumb  !  Guards,  pierce  them 

through ! 

No  mercy  beg !  Your  agonies  are  vain ! 
If  I  am  damn'd,  I  thus  make  sure  your  doom ! 
Jew,  thou  art  free,  and  by  Jehovah  saved ! 
Throned,  crown'd,  and  scepter'd,  here  I'll  meet  my 

fate. 

ELI. 

Lo !    Daniel  comes  !   He'll  read  these  words  for 

thee — 
May  be  through  penitence  may  give  thee  life ! 

Enter  DANIEL,  who  Jcneels  before  tike  throne,  and  then 
slowly  rises. 

BELSHAZZAR. 

By  Heav'n's  kind  guidance  brought  now  near  this 

place, 
Thou,  prophet  of  Jehovah,  art  my  hope  ! 


186       THE  JEWISH   CAPTIVES. 

What  mean  those  blazing  words  that  blast  my 
sight  ? 

DANIEL. 

These  vessels  sacred  to  our  temple's  use 
By  thee  profaned  have  waked  Jehovah's  wrath. 
Weigh'd  in  His  balance  thou  art  wanting  found : 
The  Medes  and  Persians  will  thine  empire  take. 

BELSHAZZAR. 

Jew,  on  thy  brow  plays  Heav'n's  own  holy  fire, 

And  I  thy  words  believe  that  seal  my  fate. 

About  thy  neck  I  hang  this  chain  of  gold, 

And  robe  thee  with  the  scarlet  badge  of  kings. 

Yea  !   all  too  late  I  offer  to  thy  God, 

Before  whose  eye  we  monarchs  are  but  dust ! 

There  bursts  the  storm  !  I  hear  the  clash  of  arms  ! 

Lo  !  over  Babylon  the  glare  of  flames  ! 

I'll  die  a  king  and  near  mine  empire's  throne  ! 

Enter  GORGIAS,  ATTS,  ABNER,  and  ONO,  with  Persian 
soldiers,  ivho  kill  BELSHAZZAR  bravely  fighting. 

GORGIAS. 

Ye  Princes,  and  ye  Lords  of  Babylon  ! 
The  troops  of  Cyrus  o'er  your  palace  swarm, 
Your  city  hold,  your  gates  and  towers  possess. 
See  there  your  king  discrown'd,  and  in  his  blood — 
Last  of  a  race  who  steep'd  a  world  in  tears  ! 
Heavy  on  him  the  sins  of  ages  press  ! 


TILE    JEWISH   CAPTIVES.       187 

These  sacred  gifts,  profaned,  Ms  madness  show ; 
Yon  Jew,  and  mitred  ape  his  blasphemy. 
Your  plmider'd  wealth,  your  persons  scarr'd  by 

wounds, 

Your  state  by  taxes  drain'd,  and  eunuchs  robb'd, 
Your  murder'd  sons,  your  wives  and  daughters 

staiii'd, 

Have  doom'd  this  bloated  empire  to  its  death. 
Both  Heav'n  and  Earth  combine  to  end  such  rule, 
And  hide  in  night  the  star  of  Babylon, 
AVhich,  o'er  the  throne  of  Cyrus  now  will  rise, 
And  like  a  sun  will  bless  a  subject  world. 


ACT    V. 

SCENE  I. — A  Hall  in  the  Palace  of  Babylon — Cnius 
iupurplerobes,  crowned  and  sceptered  on  his  throne, 
surrounded  by  courtiers. 

CYRUS. 

CRINGES,  and  Lords,  our  throne  made 

strong  and  sure, 
We  will  inquire  what  touches  our  wide 

realm. 
Regions  remote  by  highways  now  drawn  near, 


188       THE  JEWISH   CAPTIVES. 

Make  Babylon  our  mighty  empire's  heart, 
That  pulses  out  its  life  to  each  far  part. 
Tell,  Atys,  how  our  posts  our  kingdoms  join  ! 

ATTS. 

So  swift  from  town  to  town,  and  state  to  state 

Our  riders  rushing  fly,  that  in  ten  days, 

As  borne  on  winds,  our  capital  has  news 

From  India's  plains  of  fire,  and  Scythia's  snows, 

And  Tigris  with  the  Ganges  seems  to  talk, 

And  North  to  South,  and  East  to  West  are  bound. 

Our  doves  bear  over  heav'n,  as  wing'd  by  it, 

What  speediest  we  would  hear,  until  our  realm 

Is  like  a  room  where  whispering  sounds  grow  loud. 

CYRUS. 

Atys,  thou  hast  done  well,  and  proved  me  wise. 
A  monarch's  glory  is  to  choose  fit  men, 
Each  for  his  sphere,  and  then  his  empire  is 
One  body  moved,  and  order'd  by  one  soul. 
My  Gorgias,  are  our  Satrapies  well  fill'd  ? 
Our  rulers  should  be  mirrors  of  ourselves, 
As  we  do  image  forth  the  King  of  day, 
Who  sends  his  blest  and  bounteous  beams  on  all. 

GORGIAS. 

Each  satrap  to  thine  empire's  farthest  bound 
By  me  is  chosen  from  the  land  he  rules, 
That  knit  to  it  by  birth  and  blood  and  speech, 
His  acts  may  be  with  knowledge,  and  in  love. 


THE   JEWISH   CAPTIVES.       189 

States  to  thy  throne  are  held  like  anchor'd  ships, 
Whose  cables  keep  them  from  the  tossing  sea. 

CYEUS. 

Most  cheering  this  !    Till  Peace  war's  wounds  has 

heal'd, 

And  from  her  horn  pour'd  plenty  o'er  our  realm, 
Let  Egypt  doze,  and  dream  along  her  Nile  ! 
When  ready,  we  leviathan  will  wake, 
And  lay  his  carcass  rotting  on  his  shores. 
GORGIAS. 

A  noble  Jew  would  seek  thy  presence,  King, 
If  thee  it  please,  and  plead  his  nation's  cause. 

CYRUS. 

Let  him  draw  near :  I  owe  his  race  a  debt. 
In  a  dai-k  hour  one  brought  a  light  to  me 
Whose  ray  led  on  to  this  Chaldean  throne, 
And  stream'd  around  my  brow  immortal  beams. 

Enter  ELI,  led  by  ABNER  ami  OKO. 

That  form  I  know,  and  that  most  princely  face  ! 
I've  seen  it  in  my  boyhood's  morning  dreams 
On  Persia's  hills,  and  in  the  Median  groves, 
Till  it  seems  link'd  to  all  my  life  by  fate. 
Old  Jew,  my  father's  self  not  better  known 
Than  thou,  who  waved  me  on  to  Babylon 
Like  some  bright  angel  standing  in  the  sun. 
My  life's  long  dream,  I  clasp  thee  to  my  heart ! 


190      THE  JEWISH   CAPTIVES. 

CYRUS  embraces  ELI. 

These  younger  Jews  I  know,  and  welcome  them  ! 
Ye  bore  the  Holy  Book  which  brought  me  here  ! 
Ask,  Eli,  what  thou  wilt,  and  it  is  thine, 
E'en  to  the  jewels  sparkling  in  my  crown. 

ELI. 
Most  gracious  King,  from  Heav'n  thy  matchless 

gifts  ! 

Jehovah  watch'd  thy  youth,  thy  manhood  led, 
And  throned  thee  here  to  give  us  liberty. 
Jerusalem  is  low,  tears  on  her  cheeks, 
And  sorrow  in  her  heart,  widow'd  and  lone, 
And  sitting  in  the  dust  weigh'd  down  by  chains. 
Our  fetters  break,  and  send  us  to  our  land 
That  we  may  build  on  Zion's  holy  hill 
Our  temple  high,  crown'd  with  the  light  of  Heav'n  ! 

CYRUS. 

Good  Jew,  'tis  done  !  My  scribes,  record  my  will ! 
Gold  thou  shalt  have,  and  make  thy  city  shine 
In  glory  worthy  of  King  David's  line. 

1     ELI. 

Thanks  to  thee,  King,  and  to  Jehovah,  praise  ! 
My  eyes  see  not,  but  oh !  my  heart  can  feel, 
And  I  can  drop  a  tear  to  show  my  joy. 
An  old  man's  blessing  rest  on  thee  and  thine ; 
Thine  empire  live  while  sun  and  moon  may 
shine ! 


THE  JEWISH    CAPTIVES.      191 

CYRUS. 

Ye  Princes  and  ye  Lords  of  Babylon, 

But  in  eternal  right  can  stand  our  throne, 

By  Love  and  Justice  clasp'd,  while  Heav'n  smiles 

down ! 

If  kings  oppress,  the  people  will  rebel, 
And  hurl  at  last  base  tyrants  from  their  seats. 
Rulers  who  grind  the  poor  to  pamper  lust 
Like  monstrous  wild  beasts  should  be  chased  to 

death. 

Good  Jew,  I've  done  what  Justice  claim'd  as  due  ; 
Jehovah  guard  my  realm,  and  Israel  bless  ! 


SCENE  II. — A  Cloister  of  the  Temple  of  Jerusalem, 
which  alone  had  survived  the  fire  of  the  Chal 
deans. 

ELI. 

tS§S^?0  keen  my  sense,  that  when  across  the  moon 

K{\^il!^Q 

(jj!ijj§W   The  evening  bat  on  leaden  wing  may  flit, 
I  feel  its  shadow  moving  o'er  mine  eyes  ; 
And  I  can  hear  the  velvet-footed  fox 
Who  lurks  and  looks  along  the  broken  wall. 
Such  added  pain  and  power  my  blindness  gives, 
Since  one  sense  lost,  the  rest  its  life  receive. 
Oh,  in  this  cloister'd  spot,  saved  from  the  fire 
If  blacken'd  by  its  breath,  I'd  rather  be 


192      THE  JEWISH  CAPTIVES. 

Than  on  the  throne  of  purple  Babylon. 

Thank  Heav'n  I  have  no  mem'ries  here  from  sight ! 

My  last  glance  saw  our  temple  robed  in  flames, 

Each  dying  glory  heighten'd  in  their  blaze ; 

Nor  did  I  see  Belshazzar's  face,  or  land, 

And  bless  the  night  that  veil'd  them  from  mine 

eyes. 

Oh  here,  Jehovah,  let  thy  servant  die — 
From  here  mine  eyes  be  open'd  on  thy  face  ! 
And  here  my  flesh  lie  down  to  take  its  rest, 
Then  borne  out  hence  to  our  dear  mountain-tomb  ! 
But  I  hear  Abner's  step  upon  the  stones ! 

Enter  ABNEE. 

What  news,  my  son,  from  our  long-building  wall  ? 
I  have  not  heard  since  morn  the  trowel's  clink. 
Instead,  there  rose  one  burst  of  sudden  joy, 
That  spent  itself,  and  deeper  silence  left. 

ABNER. 

Father,  the  wall  is  done — our  city  saved, 

And  we  have  raised  an  altar  on  this  hill 

To  have  at  morn  and  eve  the  sacrifice. 

Our  shouts  thou  heardst,  that  burst  from  heart  to 

lip, 
While  the  calm  skies  look'd  down  and  smiled  their 

love. 


THE  JEWISH    CAPTIVES.      193 

ELI. 

To  Israel's  God  the  praise  !  His  name  I  bless  ! 
He  led  us  through  our  night  to  glory's  dawn  ! 
This  day's  immortal — tell  me  more  of  it ! 

ABNEK. 

The  wall  was  built,  except  a  corner'd  part, 
When  up  on  us  Samaria  hurl'd  a  troop 
With  one  last  desp'rate  shock  to  stop  our  work  ; 
Like  some  mad  stream  that  foams  o'er  mountain 

rocks 

Our  Ono  charged  the  foe,  their  leader  struck, 
Who  headless  from  his  horse  fell  to  the  earth, 
And  then  the  Jews,   made  bold,  rush'd  on  with 

shouts, 
Flash'd  high  their  swords,  and  drove  the  robbers 

back, 

While  all  the  hill  was  ghastly  with  their  dead. 
I  then  call'd  round  our  men  to  end  their  work, 
And  ere  the  sun  could  mark  one  lingering  hour, 
So  hot  their  zeal,  they  shouted  it  was  done. 

ELI. 

Oh,  I  can  see  Jerusalem  again 
Climb   down  these   vales,   and  gleam   along   our 

hills, 

And  in  her  midst  our  pillar 'd  temple  rise  ! 
Here,  son,  the  mantle  of  my  priesthood  take, 
And,  mitred,  slay  for  me  the  evening  lamb. 
0 


194       THE  JEWISH  CAPTIVES. 
My  work  is  o'er — my  office  hence  be  thine  ! 

ABNEE. 

Like  our  false  sires  when  Moses  smote  the  rock. 
For  living  streams,  I  had  the  murmuring  lip. 
Cleansed  now  my  stain,  but  not  by  me  forgot, 
I  vow  that  I  will  wed  my  priestly  work, 
And  to  Jehovah's  glory  give  my  life  ! 

Enter  ONO  and  EVA. 

ELI. 

My  children,  blest  by  Heaven,  and  in  yourselves 
I  thought  I  heard  your  voices  murmuring  near ; 
Ono,  thine  arm  proves  royal  as  thy  blood, 
And  fit  thy  brow  to  wear  King  David's  crown : 
Our  Eva  happy,  shelter'd  at  thy  side  ! 
Happy  your  home,  hung  round  by  fragrant  bloom  ! 
Oh,  lead  me  where  my  own  long  wedded  years 
Flew  wing'd  with  joy,  and  tell  me  as  we  go 
How  looks  in  brilliant  beauty  forth  our  land, 
Which  on  these  longing  eyes  may  smile  no  more  ! 
[ONO  and  EVA  Jciss  and  embrace  ELI,  and 

conduct  him  to  their  home,  ivhile  ABNER 

remains  in  the  cloister. 
How  sweet  the  breath  of  this  fresh  evenino1  air 

O 

That  whispering  lifts  the  locks  from  my  old  brow! 

EVA. 

How  Olivet  doth  glow,  tipp'd  by  the  sun, 


THE   JEWISH  CAPTIVES.      1'Jo 

While  gorge  and  cliff  flash  back  his  golden  light ! 

ELI. 

In  boyhood  oft  I  climb'd  his  hoary  sides, 
And  chased  from  rock  to  rock  the  brown  gazelle. 

ONO. 

And  there,  like  one  long  line  of  waving  gold, 
The  queen  of  seas  lies  waiting  for  the  stars, 
That  soon  will  find  a  mirror  in  her  face. 

ELI. 

Once  those  same  waves  I  saw  from  Carmel's  top 
Where  our  Elijah  knelt  and  open'd  heaven. 

EVA. 

One  fitful  gleam  shows  where  the  Dead  Sea  sleeps, 
Then  settles  o'er  the  South  a  hiding  haze. 

ELI. 

Oft  on  those  shores,  still  as  my  grave  will  be 
And  void  of  life,  I've  bent  my  musing  steps — 
While  mem'ry  saw  the  flames  roll  o'er  in  doom. 

ONO. 

Sweet  in  his  silver  Jordan  winds  along, 
Bloom  on  his  banks,  and  music  in  his  song  ; 
Soon  o'er  his  hills  will  climb  the  clustering  vine : 
Soon  in  his  vales  will  golden  harvests  shine. 
Judea's  life  is  from  his  murmuring  flow, 
Where  hope  now  brightens  in  yon  sunset  glow. 

ELI. 
Oh,  that  these  eyes  could  see  the  beauty  there ! 


196     THE  JEWISH   CAPTIVES. 

Yet  memory  still  recalls  the  scenes  so  fair, 
Where  my  young  manhood  led  my  brilliant  bride 
Bright  as  the  roses  on  the  river's  side. 

EVA. 

The  sun's  last  glance  is  on  Siloam's  pool, 
That  seems  a  glittering  gem  in  emerald  set, 
While  Cedron  dashes  on  in  mountain  glee  ; 
The  temple-hill  shines  with  resplendent  glow, 
As  when  Jehovah  gleam'd  there  through  His  cloud. 
From  our  new  altar  its  first  flash  of  fire  ! 
Lo,  o'er  its  smoke  a  rainbow  smiling  bends, 
And  down  on  Israel  sheds  the  light  of  hope. 

ELI. 

I  weary  grow,  and  on  some  stone  must  rest: 
Here  I  will  sit,  and  tell  my  dream  to  you. 
As  I  lay  sleeping  in  my  cloister'd  nook, 
I  thought  I  saw  our  temple  rise  once  more. 
Low  linger'd  in  mine  ear  that  chanted  psalm 
Sung  oft  responsive  by  our  white-robed  choirs, 
Where  comes  the  King  of  Glory  from  his  gates. 
Soothed  by  the  warbled  sounds  I  smiled  with  joy. 
Its  altar  earth,  and  the  starr'd  heaven  its  dome, 
Jehovah's  house  grew  to  the  universe. 
Then  One,  who  was  our  God,  and  yet  was  man, 
Died  'mid  a  gloom  that  robed  our  shaking  world; 
But  soon  burst  from  his  grave,  and  rose  to  Heaven, 
Resplendent  there,  and  everlasting  Priest : 


TEE   JEWISH  CAPTIVES.     197 

Anon,  on  clouds  He  came,  'mid  angels  throned, 
In  flashing  might,  to  sit  majestic  Judge  ; 
Last,  earth  was  wrapp'd  in  fire,  and  from  the  blaze 
A  new  world  rose  in  an  immortal  bloom, 
And  saints  and  cherubim  with  songs  adored 
Him,  ever  King,  both  Human  and  Divine. 


FAITH. 


FAITH. 

•  HAT  curious  bosom  never  throbb'd  to 

roll 
Mysterious  darkness  from  the  burden'd 

soul  ? 

Who  would  not  tear  his  being's  veil  away, 
And  burst  to  light  in  truth's  eternal  day  ? 
0,  who  glows  not  with  burning  wish  to  find 
Where  tend  these  restless  energies  of  mind — 
Where  point  these  mystic  longings  and  desires 
That  hide  in  every  breast  their  wasting  fires  ? 

Faith  lifts  each  cloud,  the  void  of  life  supplies, 
Sheds  light  o'er  earth,  and  leads  on  to  the  skies. 

What  secret  power,  with  universal  force, 
Can  atoms  join,  and  worlds  keep  in  their  course  ? 
True  as  the  spell  that  points  to  Heav'n  a  soul 
What  makes  the  needle  tremble  to  the  pole, — 
Beams  in  the  twilight  star  with  golden  ray, 


202  FAITH. 

And  flashing  from  the  sun  sheds  round  the  day  ? 
Or  tell,  what  power  invisible  can  bind 
Insentient  matter  to  immortal  mind  ? 
Lo,  Science  points  where,  quivering  on  the  sky, 
With  vivid  joy  the  frantic  lightnings  fly, 
And  finds  through  worlds  electric  forces  reign 
That  bind  creation  in  one  mystic  chain. 
Thus  in  the  spirit- realm  with  sovereign  sway 
Faith  rules  and  calls  its  energies  in  play — 
O'er  all  the  unseen  empire  has  control, 
Explains,  pervades,  and  regulates  the  whole. 

Turn  where  we  may,  the  curious  eye  surveys 
Through  the  wide  circles  of  the  social  maze — 
From  the  lone  hut  where  squalid  misery  pines 
To  where  in  pride  the  splendid  palace  shines, 
From  the  drear  isle  where  rude  barbarians  dwell 
To  lands  where  Science  breathes  her  magic  spell, — 
Each  human  link  in  the  vast  living  round 
To   the   whole   chain   by   Heaven's    own  wisdom 

bound, 

Till  trust  in  others  from  our  infant  breath, 
Through  all  life's  sorrows  to  the  shades  of  death, 
Joins  man  to  man,  forms  ties  of  sacred  love, 
And  points  us  to  eternal  worlds  above. 

Faith,  too,  in  self,  when  obstacles  oppose, 
Which  in  the  breast  of  modest  genius  glows, 


FAITH.  203 

Alone  can  fire  the  daring  soul  for  flight 
Beyond  the  clouds  that  veil  the  fields  of  light. 
Let  dark  Distrust  enjoy  her  shadowy  reign, 
Let  fears  of  failure  haunt  the  troubled  brain, 
The  arm  will  lose  its  force,  the  mind  its  fire, 
And  every  lofty  scheme  in  night  expire. 
When  Danger  scowls,  when  Penury's  chill  frown 
Palsies  the  heart  and  weighs  the  spirit  down, 
When  withering  scorn,  the  jeer  of  silly  mirth 
Would  drag  the  bold  adventurer  back  to  earth, 
O'er  doubts  triumphant  and  unmoved  by  sneers 
His  lifted  eye  will  brighten  'mid  its  tears, 
And  high  on  Faith's  exultant  wing  he'll  rise 
To  drop  in  love  his  mantle  from  the  skies. 

Behold  Columbus  spread  his  venturous  sail 
Where  mountain-billows  sweep  before  the  gale  ! 
Ye  light'nings,  clouds,  and  tempests,  all  in  vain 
Ye  flash  and  frown  and  roar  along  the  main ! 
Let  earth  and  sea  and  sky  mix  in  the  strife, 
Let  murder  plot  and  grasp  the  secret  knife, 
Serene  the  hero's  soul,  erect  his  form, 
Through  the  wild  ragings  of  the  midnight  storm. 
While  gathering  perils  dark  around  him  spread, 
Faith  sheds  her  awful  brightness  on  his  head ; 
"  Onward  !  "  he  cries  ;   God  smiles  upon  the  brave  : 
£To  tempests  more  can  toss  the  sleeping  wave, 


204  FAITH. 

And  soon  with  raptured  glance  his  eyes  explore 
The  misty  outlines  of  the  promised  shore. 

Celestial  Faith  !  thy  guardian  hand  appears 
And  points  great  Newton  to  yon  wheeling  spheres  ; 
A  halo  binds  around  his  brow  serene 
As  he  surveys  the  glittering  starry  scene, 
Darts  his  keen  eye  through  the  wide  realms  of 

space, 
And  takes  creation  in  his  mind's  embrace. 

Amid  the  battle-cloud,  as  freemen  fight, 
I  see  thy  hovering  form  crown'd  with  the  light. 
While  Briton's  lion  glaring  crouches  low, 
And  footprints  mark  with  blood  the  shining  snow  ; 
While  low-brow'd   Treason  hides   with    specious 

smiles 

A  soul  which  gold  has  bought,  and  plans  his  wiles ; 
While  Disaffection  murmurs  through  the  land, 
Chills  Freedom's  heart   and  weakens  Freedom's 

hand ; 
While  patriots  groan,  while  shrieking  Hope  takes 

flight, 

To  leave  the  world  in  an  eternal  night, 
From  Heav'n  I  hear  thy  glad  inspiring  cry — 
"  Fight  on,  ye  brave  !  your  cause  shall  never  die  !  " 
From  thy  bright  realms  I  see  thee  bring  relief, 


FAITH.  205 

And  seek  on  wings  of  love  our  matchless  chief; 
Smile    through   the    storm,    and   bid  him    stand 

tinawed, 
And  trust  his  country  to  his  country's  God. 

Illustrious  Hope  !  with  brighten'd  glance  mine 

eyes 

Thy  glittering  pinions  see  wave  on  the  skies  ; 
Soon  radiant  stands  thy  graceful  image  where 
Yon  son  of  genius  sinks  into  despair  ; 
'Tis  thine,  indeed,  to  bid  the  shades  depart 
That  cloud  his  brow  and  agonize  his  heart : 
'Tis  thine  with  glowing  pictures  to  inflame 
Immortal  ardours  for  the  wreath  of  Fame  : 
'Tis  thine  the  Future's  curtain  to  unroll, 
And  stream  its  glories  o'er  the  hero's  soul  ; 
But  soon  thy  colours  fade,  thy  visions  fly, 
Like  painted  vapours  when  a  breeze  may  sigh, 
Unless,  with  loftier  eye  and  nobler  mien, 
Majestic  Faith  descends  to  rule  the  scene. 

Yes  !  thou  inspiring  Faith,  in  trial's  day, 
When  night  draws  round,  and  storms  burst  on  our 

way  ; 

When  from  their  depths  in  rage  wild  oceans  rise, 
And  dash  their  fury  up  to  trembling  skies  ; 
Thou,  Faith,  like  Him,  whose  majesty  confess'd 


206  FAITH. 

Hush'd  by  one  monarch-  word  the  waves  to  rest, 
Dost  calm  our  fears,  dost  turn  our  raptured  sight 
Where  tempests  never  sweep  in  paths  of  night. 

Let,  blissful  Faith,  thy  magic  wand  but  wave, 
Point  through  the  cross  to  Him  beyond  the  grave, 
Griefs  bloom  with  joys,   bright  rainbow-lustres 


Despair  will  smile,  and  midnight  turn  to  day. 

Fidelio's  mansion  blush'd  once  in  the  dawn, 
Whose  morning  light  glow'd  crimson  o'er  his  lawn  ; 
Religion  on  his  home  her  glory  shed, 
And  Art  and  Learning  round  their  graces  spread; 
Shall  storms  arise?  shall  sorrow  shed  her  tear 
O'er  scenes  of  bliss  unclouded  by  a  fear  ? 
Lo,  slander  blasts,  the  mob  a  torch  applies, 
Above  his  home  flames  leap  to  midnight  skies  ; 
Fidelio's  wife  glares  with  a  maniac  gaze  ; 
Fidelio's  children  perish  in  the  blaze. 
About  Fidelio,  guiltless,  clanks  a  chain, 
And  wretches  taunt  him  with  red  murder's  stain. 
"  Oh,  Heaven,"  he  cries,  "  with  vengeance-burning 

dart, 

Why  dost  thou  love  to  pierce  and  pain  my  heart  ?  " 
Lo,  while  he  speaks,  see  in  the  glimmering  ray 


FAITH,  207 

That  through  his  dungeon-bars  finds  dim  its  way, 

A  smile  is  on  his  face,  his  features  shine 

As  round  him  plays  a  flood  of  light  divine ; 

Faith  looks  aloft  to  One  whose  eye  is  there, 

And  glory  gilds  the  shadows  of  despair. 

"  Father,  smite  on  !  "    Fidelio's  lips  exclaim  ; 

"  All  shall  be  known  when  earth  is  wrapp'd  in 

flame  ; 

Yes  !  then  thy  hand  the  curtain  shall  unroll, 
To  show  why  sorrow  thus  has  wrung  my  soul. 
When  peals  thy  trumpet  the  eternal  morn, 
And  with  its  breath  our  world  to  bliss  is  born  ; 
There  will  we  meet,  immortal  in  the  sky, 
Where  Love  can  drop  no  tear  o'er  those  who  die." 

See,  as  they  part,  a  mother  kiss  her  boy, 
While  sighs  delay  the  word  that  clouds  her  joy  ! 
She  cries,  while  from  her  eyes  the  tears  will  flow, 
As  clasp  her  arms  the  form  most  dear  below, 
"  My  son,  when  first  thy  little  lip  I  press'd 
But  Heav'n  can  know  the  bliss  within,  my  breast — 
The  joy  that  thrill'd,  the  love  and  mingled  pride, 
As  stretch'd  thy  hands  above  thy  cradle's  side, 
While  o'er  thy  cheeks  bright  smiles  the  roses  chase 
That  seem'd  caught  from  thy  hovering  angel's  face. 
Laid  on  the  grass  I  see  thine  image  now, 
And  boyhood's  curls  wave  clustering  o'er  thy  brow. 


208  FAITH. 

Oh  trust,  my  son,  since  Manhood  bids  us  part, 
And  veils  with  sorrow's  shade  my  widow'd  heart, 
When  tempests  darken  trial's  winter-day, 
Thy  father's  God  and  thine  will  guard  thy  way  !  " 
He  goes,  while  filial  tears  his  cheeks  suffuse, 
Flush'd  with  gay  hopes  his  path  of  life  to  choose  ; 
And  when  Temptation  spreads  her  glittering  snare, 
When  Pleasure  smiles  to  drag  him  to  despair, 
Maternal  Faith,  his  shield  in  peril's  hour, 
Defies  a  world,  and  baffles  demon-power. 

And  when  tornadoes  burst  from  angry  clouds, 
When  lightnings  leap  across  the  vessel's  shrouds, 
When  thunders  peal  wild  answers  to  the  waves, 
And  ocean  lash'd  to  madness  yawns  with  graves, 
When  Hope  forsakes,  and  agonizing  cries 
Above  the  battling  elements  arise, 
The  wife  at  home  bids  storms  no  longer  blow ; 
Her  Faith  chains  down  the  seas  that  heave  below, 
And  spreads  the  sail,  and  makes  the  willing  breeze 
Speed  him  most  loved  safe  over  glittering  seas. 

Blest  child  of  Faith,  whose  smile  is  o'er  the 

skies, 

Robed  in  her  morn  Love  brightens  on  mine  eyes  ! 
Wide  to  the  breeze  her  standard  be  unfurl 'd, 
To  wave  its  peaceful  glories  o'er  our  world  ! 


FAITH.  209 

What  breast  the  brilliant  vision  never  knew 
That  gilds  earth's  clouds  with  Hope's  inspiring 

hue  ? 

O  say,  who  ne'er  the  future's  veil  unroll'd 
To  see  return  again  the  age  of  gold  ? 
From  time's  first  dawn  the  varied  cycles  share 
The  same  old  dream  that  lifts  man  from  despair, 
Since  in  his  soul  th'  immortal  wish  has  birth, 
That  yearns  the  glow  of  Heav'n  to  find  on  earth. 


What  power  omnipotent  shall  burst  our  chain, 
And  o'er  our  world  shall  spread  the  splendid 

reign  ? 

Can  Science  with  her  orient  ray  dispel 
A    gloom  that   blackens   from    the   shades    of 

hell? 

Oh  !  Reason,  in  her  wisest  laws  express'd, 
Is  vain  to  tame  the  passions  of  the  breast, 
To  bind  wild  nations  to  her  stately  car, 
Or  wreathe  the  olive  round  the  sword  of  war. 
Thou,   matchless   Faith,  thou,  wing'd  with  thine 

own  light, 

Must  flash  away  the  clouds  that  make  our  night ; 
Thou  from  despair  must  give  to  man  release 
Till    Love   shall  spread   o'er  earth  the  sway    of 

Peace  ! 

p 


210  FAITH. 

But  frowning  here,  a  phantom-form  appears 
To  cast  her  shadow  o'er  the  future  years. 
"  Judge  from  the  Past,  deluded  man,"  she  cries  ; 
t'  Hope's  glittering  visions  but  deceive  thine  eyes  ; 
Poor  dupe  of  priests,  no  promis'd  day  shall  shed 
Millennial  brightness  on  thy  suffering  head  !  " 

Paint,  Infidelity,  in  darkest  hues, 
Paint  from  the  past  thy  soul-contracting  views  ; 
Then  in  the  cheerless  colours  of  the  tomb 
Let  thy  despairing  picture  frown  in  gloom, 
While  lightning-flashes  o'er  its  blackness  dart 
More  fierce  than  hate  that  burns   within    thine 

heart ! 

On  mountains  mountains  pile  along  the  way 
Where  Faith  points  on  to  a  thick  millennial  day  ! 
Thy  art  is  vain  !  no  shades  at  thy  command, 
Xo  demon-touches  from  thy  master's  hand, 
E'er  sketch'd  such  paths  of  blood,  such  seas  of  fire 
As  Heav'n  arrays  when  prophets  sweep  her  lyre. 

But  shall  Faith  tremble  at  the  dread  survey 
And  turn  aghast  her  wilder'd  eye  away — 
To  passion's  power,  to  Satan's  sway  give  o'er 
Immortal  men,  chain'd  down  for  evermore  ? 
Nay  !  from  the  skies  majestic  scenes  unfold ; 
Faith  sees  her  angels  wave  their  wings  of  gold ; 


FAITH.  211 

Then,  rank  on  shining  rank,  from  Heav'n  descend, 
And  with  her  wrestling  sons  in  battle  blend. 
Above  the  strife  behold  her  towering  form, 
Calm  as  some  sunlit  rock  amid  a  storm, 
While  in  her  hand  th'  Eternal  Word  appears 
To  gild  earth's  darkness  with  sabbatic  years  ; 
And  as  the  scenes  of  future  bliss  arise, 
Light  crowns  her  brow  and  kindles  in  her  eyes  ! 

'Twas  thus  when  morn  dispell'd  the  midnight's 

tears, 

And  glanced  in  terror  on  the  Syrian  spears, 
As  gathering  foes  'mid  yells  of  clamorous  hate 
With  axes  thunder  at  the  trembling  gate, 
The  Prophet,  smiling,  tarns  aloft  his  gaze 
Where  chariots  burn,  celestial  warriors  blaze. 

From   Heav'n's  bright  hills,   Faith   sends   her 

clarion-cry, 

And  angel-forms  again  are  on  the  sky — 
"  Ye  Christian  soldiers,  go — your  standard  raise 
Till  over  earth  millennial  glories  blaze! 
Where  stormy  winters  sweep  around  the  pole, 
And  suns  unsetting  weary  circles  roll ; 
Where  Nature  painted  in  her  torrid  ray 
Seems  gorgeous  as  the  cloud-gates  of  the  day, 
Lift  high  the  Cross  !   Let  Brahma  raise  his  fanes ; 


212  FAITH. 

And  Gunga's  stream  in  blood  wind  through  the 

plains ; 

Let  Boodh's  dark  millions  in  their  temples  bend 
Where  white-robed  priests  with  mystic  rites  attend: 
Let  Feejee's  fires  gleam  through  the  midnight  air, 
To  show  the  writhing  victims  of  despair : 
Let  Moslem  vengeance  bolts  of  ruin  throw, 
And  blood-red  crescents  o'er  Judea  glow  : 
Let  Rome's  dark  spectre  tower  amid  the  gloom, 
Crown'd  with  her  flames,  to  make  for  Faith  a  tomb ; 
Yet,  Heaven  your  shield,  ye  Christian-warriors,  go, 
The  earth  your  battle-field  and  hell  your  foe ! 
Lift  high  the  Cross,  and  Science  soon  will  rise 
To  hail  the  Gospel- Angel  as  he  flies ; 
And  Life's  immortal  page  send  from  her  hand 
Like  seed  which  autumn  wings  across  the  land ; 
Shall  nations  join,  and  flash  along  her  wire 
Salvation's  news,  as  with  celestial  fire  ! 
Lift  high  the  Cross  !   Soon  War's  death-trump  no 

more 

Shall  peal  its  battle-notes  from  shore  to  shore : 
No  chain  shall  clank,  no  superstitions  throw 
Grim,  spectral  shadows  o'er  a  world  of  woe  ! 
Lift  high  the  Cross,  till  Truth  shall  scatter  night, 
And  Love's  bright  morn  shed  universal  light — 
From  clime  to  clime  one  wide  effulgence  stream, 
And  Heav'n  and  Earth  commingle  in  her  beam  ! 


FAITH.  213 

Hero  of  Heav'n,  the  Cross  whose  matchless 

grace 

Did  conquer  thee,  can  move  and  mo  aid  a  race ! 
Speak    from   thy  skies  !     When   tortured  Ava's 

chain, 

When  torrid  suns  pour'd  fire  upon  thy  brain, 
When  sadly  came  upon  the  scorching  gale, 
With  prison-curses  mix'd,  thine  infant's  wail ; 
When  prostrate  she,  thine  angel — more,  thy  wife — 
From  pagan  bounty  held  her  guardian  life, 
Oh,  then,  by  demons  mock'd,  by  man  oppress'd, 
Tell  me,  could  Love  still  reign  within  thy  breast  ? 
When,  burst  thy  fetters,  softest  breezes  now 
Expand  thy  sail  and  play  upon  thy  brow, 
Beneath  the  moon  waft  o'er  a  placid  stream 
From  scenes  that  frown  like  phantoms  of  a  dream, 
Shall  Love  still  bind  thee  to  that  cruel  shore  ? 
For  men  who  sought  thy  blood  wilt  thou  care 

more  ? 

Or  weeping  lone  amid  the  Hopia  shade 
Where  all  that  made  earth  bright  for  thee  is  laid, 
Still  wilt  thou  kneel,  and  pray  for  Burmah  there  ? 
Still  shall  Love  triumph  in  thy  dark  despair  ? 
Lo  !  frowns  Helena  o'er  the  sullen  wave, 
And  Sorrow's  tear  drops  on  another  grave ; 
Still  shall  thy  sobbing  voice  the  cry  repeat  ? 
Still  shall  thy  heart  with  love's  pulsations  beat  ? 


214  FAITH. 

Still  shall  thy  lingering  eye  look  o'er  the  sea  ? 
Still  burns  the  wish  that  Burraah  shall  be  free  ? 
Let  gold  allure,  let  Satan  in  thy  way 
His  mountains  pile  on  Burmah's  path  to-day, 
In  Burmah's  tongue  th'  Eternal  Word  must  fly : 
On  Burmah's  soil  thy  sleeping  dust  would  lie  ! 
Oh,  victor  thou,  on  some  celestial  height 
Where  play  the  splendours  of  immortal  light, 
As  down  to  earth  thy  longing  eyes  explore, 
They  yet  shall  see  Love  reign  on  Burmah's  shore 
On  Ava's  turrets  yet  the  Cross  shall  rise, 
And  Burmah  peal  her  anthems  to  the  skies  ! 


All-conquering  Faith  !  thy  hand  has  tamed  the 

wave, 
Has   snatch'd  from    death,  and   burst    the  awful 

grave : 

Thy  word  has  calm'd  the  tempest's  boisterous  force, 
And  stopp'd  the  sun  in  his  eternal  course ; 
Nay !  moved  the  arm  that  guides  with  boundless 

might 

This  vast  creation  in  its  onward  flight ; 
And  thou  must  rule  with  matchless  power  and  art 
The  warring  passions  of  a  human  heart ; 
Yes  !  thy  omnipotence  alone  can  bind 
The  waves  and  tempests  of  a  deathless  mind  ! 


FAITH.  215 

The  great  Napoleon  on  his  weary  rock — 
Hush'd  now  the  victor's  shout  and  battle-shock — 
A  captive  now  amid  the  sea  confined, 
No  schemes  of  conquest  darkening  now  his  mind, 
As  meditation  o'er  life's  evening  threw 
A  wisdom  mad  ambition's  noon  ne'er  knew, 
While  down  through  vistas  in  the  clouds  of  time 
Eternal  rays  gild  o'er  the  scene  sublime — 
Napoleon  saw  that  Force  with  tyrant  sway, 
Might  briefly  make  reluctant  man  obey, 
But  only  Love's  omnipotent  control 
Could  found  enduring  empire  in  the  soul. 

Offspring   of   Faith,  bright  Love,  descend  and 

bring 

A  world  in  tears  to  kneel  before  her  King ! 
By  his  blest  sceptre  touch'd,  thou  shalt  arise, 
And  fling  thy  conquering  banner  to  the  skies. 

Far-glancing  Faith  !  let  Science  from  her  throne 
Unveil  earth's  wonders  round  from  zone  to  zone ; 
On  tireless  pinions  bear  the  spirit  far 
To  circle  space  and  visit  every  star : 
Let  venturous  Fancy  sweep  on  bolder  wing, 
Beyond  where  reason  soars,  or  angels  sing — 
All  theirs  is  thine — but  wider  thy  embrace ! 
Yon  glittering  worlds  shall  weary  in  their  race, 


216  FAITH. 

This  earth  shall  burn,  the  skies  shall  melt  away, 
And  o'er  creation  Ruin's  flames  shall  play, 
Yet  from  the  wreck  of  fire  thy  glance  descries 
New  systems  spring,  immortal  glories  rise  ! 


THE    ROMAN    MARTYRS. 


THE    ROMAN    MARTYRS. 


H'  eternal  city  burns  in  evening  light ! 
See  on  the  Pincian  play  its  tremulous 

beams 

That  gild  the  Capitol's  majestic  height, 
And  Coliseum  flood  with  living  streams  ! 
Each  pillar'd  temple  bathed  in  glory  seems, 
And  whitest  marbles  turn  to  sudden  gold. 
Round  god  and  hero  day's  last  brilliance  gleams 
While  wave  on  wave  the  dying  splendours  roll'd, 
Rome  shines  like  sunlit  clouds,  most  dazzling  to 
behold. 

The  curtains  of  the  night  fall  round,  how  soon ! 
The  evening  star  is  o'er  the  Pantheon  seen, 
And  Caesar's  palace  silvers  in  the  moon, 
Whose  radiance  trembling  in  its  yellow  sheen 
On  garden-statues  rests  and  groves  of  green  ; 


220       THE   ROMAN   MARTYRS. 

Bright  Heav'n  is  mirror'd  now  in  Tiber's  wave, 
And  tranquil  grows  the  solemn  moonlit  scene  ; 
In  silent  shadows  mute  the  branches  wave, 
And  lo,  the  stillness  makes  the  city  seem  a  grave ! 

Hark  !  laugh  and  jest  now  through  the  windows 

fly! 

And  merry  songs  peal  down  the  quiet  street, 
And  lute  and  harp  unite  their  melody 
For  wall  and  arch  their  echoes  to  repeat. 
See,  waving  lights  in  fiery  circles  meet, 
Torch  flashing  after  torch  its  wildering  glare, 
And  curious  crowds  a  wedding  party  greet, 
While  as  they  pass  along  'mid  shout  and  stare 
Bright  flames  to  Heav'n  send  up  the  joy  that 

kindles  there ! 

How  dance  upon  the  Bride  quick- quivering  rays ! 
Gem-clasp'd,  around  her  form  a  veil  of  white, 
With  purple  fringe,  floats  in  the  blaze, 
And  jewels,  catching  splendours  from  the  light, 
Like  sparkling  stars  shine  on  the  gloom  of  night ; 
Her  snowy  hands  a  useful  distaff  hold, 
And  smile  and  eye  and  grace  inspire  delight — 
Cecilia's  beauty  not  from  art,  nor  gold  ; 
A  thought  from  Heav'n  she  moves,  shaped  in  an 
earthly  mould. 


THE   ROMAN   MART  YES.       221 

She  looks  as  I  have  seen  a  queenly  rose, 
Blushing  not  yet  in  its  maturest  bloom, 
When  in  the  summer  morn  it  waves  and  glows, 
Or  in  the  brilliance  from  some  festive  room, 
That  through  the  night  doth  tremble  into  gloom. 
More  sweet  the  fragrant  promise  of  its  leaves 
Than  riper  glories  which  are  near  their  tomb. 
How  nameless  is  the  charm  that  fancy  weaves 
When  simple   girlhood's   breast  first  with  the 
woman  heaves  ! 

Moves  by  Cecilia's  side  Valerian's  form 
From  which  a  toga's  graceful  folds  depend ; 
He  seems  a  youthful  tree  that  braves  the  storaa 
On  mountains,  when  the  thunderbolts  descend 
'Mid  lightning-flames,  and  crashing,  scathe  and 

rend. 

The  blood  of  Pompey  fills  Cecilia's  veins, 
Valerian's  eyes  fierce  Julian  flashes  send  ; 
Rome  hears  exulting  their  glad  marriage  strains, 
And  Hope  smiles  from  the  cloud  which  on  the 

empire  stains. 

Before  Valerian's  home  at  last  they  stand, 
Where  clustering  flowers  hang  mingling  scents 

and  hues. 
What  odorous  beauty  there  doth  Love  command, 


222        THE    ROMAN    MARTYRS. 

Shining  like  leaves  bathed  in  their  morning  dews ! 
A  world,  indeed,  is  blushing  round  profuse, 
And  glows  more  brightly  as  the  flames  advance. 
The  bloom  of  each  gay  clime  the  eye  may  choose  : 
Or  smiling  sweetly  in  the  moon's  cold  glance, 
Or  lifted  by  a  breeze  the  torch-lit  leaves  do  dance. 

Not  only,  Rome,  thine  eagles  from  a  world 
Did  bring  the  vase,  and  coin,  and  flashing  gem  ; 
Not  only  did  thy  banner  high  unfurl'd 
Wave  over  plunder'd  throne  and  diadem  ; 
Not  only  did  thy  legions  kingdoms  hem, 
And  bear  to  thee  their  spoil  from  every  side  ; 
Not  only  temples  did  thy  lust  condemn, 
But  pilfer'd  flowers  did  e'en  thy  ravage  chide, 
Pluck'd  forth  from  every  land  to  deck  thy  festive 
pride  ! 

The  Bride  stops  trembling  at  Valerian's  door ; 
Sweet  modesty  sits  blushing  in  her  face  ; 
The  husband  draws  with  gentle  force  before, 
Charm'd  with  Cecilia's  scarce-resisting  grace. 
In  her  new  home  the  wife  soon  finds  a  place 
That  makes  the  timid  girl  a  matron  now ; 
With  joy  friends  clasp  her  in  their  warm  embrace 
Till  shakes  the  flower-crown  on  her  queenly  brow, 
While  held  in  her  white  hands  her  keys  her  reign 
avow. 


THE    ROMAN    MARTYRS.       223 

Valerian  and  Cecilia  both  receive 
The  Faith  of  Him  who,  slain,  is  yet  divine  ; 
Nor  when  they  in  the  crucified  believe, 
Do  they  to  cold  austerities  incline. 
Love  o'er  their  lives  his  gentleness  did  twine  : 
True  to  the  cross,  the  crown  their  joy  inspires  ; 
Around  their  home  bright  Christian  graces  shine: 
To  others  bless,  theirs,  toil  that  never  tires — 
That  earth  her  King  may  own,  they  glow  with 
ceaseless  fires. 

Thus  from  one  root  two  vines  spring  side  by  side, 
Lifting  their  graceful  branches  wide  and  high ; 
One  strong  and  stately  towers  in  loftier  pride, 
Round  which  the  other,  fairer,  seeks  the  sky, 
And  clings  more  closely  when  the  storm  roars  by. 
From  the  same  light  and  dew  their  scent  and 

bloom. ; 
Through  kindred  veins  the  same  life-currents 

P1^ 

And  when  Decay  has  fix'd  their  fatal  doom, 
They  intertwining  lie  on  earth,  the  same  sad  tomb. 

Has  ever  Faith  escaped  the  bursting  storm  ? 
Not  in  the  shelter'd  vale  the  sturdiest  tree 
Rears  into  heav'n  its  tall  majestic  form. 
Its  roots  love  mountain-rocks,  its  branches  see 


224        THE   ROMAN   MARTYRS, 

Waving  o'er  clouds,  wliere  lightnings,  wild  and 

free, 

Fling  round  their  wrath — the  elemental  glee 
It  courts  and  dares,  while  under  skies  o'ercast 
It  grows,  and  spreads  e'en  while  the  tempest 

thunders  past ! 

Where  Christians  would  elude  their  murderous 

foes 

Hid  far  beneath  the  fatal  stare  of  day, 
Valerian,  taught  by  his  Cecilia,  goes, 
To  find  the  holy  rites  without  delay. 
His  splendid  toga  changed  for  sober  gray, 
Down  from  a  suburb  garden  he  descends  ; 
A  lamp  directs  his  solitary  way, 
Whose  glimmering  circle  to  the  darkness  lends 
A  glare,  as  he  along  his  path  in  silence  wends. 

Grows  fainter  on  his  ear  the  city's  sound 
As  ocean  billows  when  we  leave  the  shore, 
Or  mountain-torrents  hurling  thunders  round. 
In  distance  mellow  their  eternal  roar. 
The  fading  hum  at  last  is  heard  no  more : 
There  rattles  down  the  noise  of  hoof  and  car, 
And  bursting  through  the  cavern's  open  door 
Subdued,  a  shout  is  rushing  from  afar 
Where,  laurel-crown'd,  'mid  spoils,  a  victor  show 
his  scar. 


THE    ROMAN    MARTYRS.       225 

That  shout  the  Julian  in  Valerian  woke  : 

His  breath  comes  panting,  and  his  heart  throbs 

fast, 

As  dreams  of  glory  o'er  his  vision  broke 
Like  clouds  sun-gilded  when  a  storm  has  pass'd, 
Whose  burning  splendours  dazzle  while  they 

last. 

He  could  have  conquer'd  'neath  the  eagle's  eye, 
And  rush'd  to  fame  upon  war's  tempest-blast: 
He  could  have  heard  his  name  borne  to  the 

sky, 
And  roll'd  along  through  Rome  the  triumph  proud 

and  high. 

For  crowns  now  chains :    for  glory  now  this 

gloom ; 

Now  for  the  altar-fire  the  martyr-blaze, 
And  for  the  palace  now  the  catacomb 
Where  buried  exiles  drag  out  weary  days  : 
And  flames  arid  prisons  rush  before  his  gaze 
Till  pain- drops  burst  and  bathe  his  quivering 

form. 
He  stops,  he  gasps,  he  kneels,  he  trusts,  he 

prays  ; 

When  hush'd  to  peace  the  fury  of  that  storm, 
Hope's  pulses  through  youth's  veins  beat  strong, 

and  fast,  and  warm. 
Q 


226        THE   ROMAN   MARTYRS. 

On  through  the  darkness,  nor  despairing  more, 
Valerian  farther  winds  into  the  night : 
Above,  the  glare  of  Rome  and  thundering  roar : 
Beneath,  death's  empire  in  his  lamp's  pale  light. 
City  of  tombs  !   where  martyrs  for  the  right 
From  tyrants  were  conceal'd  deep  in  the  earth  ; 
Or  scathed  by  flames,  or  scarr'd  in  deadly  fight, 
Thy  memories  nobler  of  heroic  worth 
Than  purpled  Caesars  boast  who  claim  imperial 
birth  ! 

Oh,  sacred  dust,  tier  rising  over  tier  ! 
"With  reverent  step,  Valerian,  thou  must  tread  ! 
Here  sleeps  a  father  borne  on  blood-stain'd  bier, 
And  here  his  son  stung  by  the  asp  till  dead : 
One  sword-pierced  here  who  on  th'  arena 

bled, 

While  near  him  coffin'd  lies  his  strangled  bride. 
This  martyr  to  a  corpse  was  manacled : 
And  babe  and  mother  slumber  side  by  side 
With  soldiers  of  the  faith  who  chain  and  fire 
defied. 

Now  distant  lights  glance  on  Valerian's  gaze 
Whose  circles  throw  around  a  flickering  gleam, 
But  shine,  as  he  goes  on,  Avith  larger  blaze, 
And  sounds   grow  louder  in  the  brightening 
beam, 


THE  ROMAN  MARTYRS.        227 

Which,  words  of  worship  soon  distinctly  seem. 
Hark !    mingling  voices  yet  more  clear  and 

strong 
Their   praises    pour,    and   bursting   swell    and 

stream 

High  to  the  roof,  then  echoing  far  along, 
Roll  through  that  cavern's  night  to  Heav'n  -the 

Christian  song. 

The  people  kneel,  and  their  low  murmur  dies 

As  if  should  cease  the  solemn  roar  of  seas, 

Or  stop  the  winds,   which,  sweeping  autumn 

skies 

Tell  yet  of  stormier  blasts  to  shake  the  trees. 
Valerian  hears,  borne  on  devotion's  breeze, 
A  prayer,  faith-wafted  far,  in  love's  soft  tone, 
And  knows  an  Eye  omniscient  watchful  sees. 
Oh,  safe  is  he,  if  world  on  world  be  thrown, 
Since  e'en  'mid  nature's  wreck  a  Father  keeps  his 
own. 

As  parts  the  crowd  Valerian  forward  goes 
Clothed  in  baptismal  robes  of  glittering  white : 
Peace  in  his  silent  heart  divinely  flows, 
And  joy  beams  shining  o'er  his  trial's  night; 
Around  his  brow  a  coronal  of  light. 
He  kneels  by  sacred  drops  for  ever  seal'd 


228        THE   ROMAN   MARTYRS. 

A  martyr-soldier  in  the  Christian  fight — 
Hope,   Truth,   and  Faith  his  helm,  and  sword, 

and  shield — 

Those  arms  which  Heaven  bestows  for  earth's 
contested  field. 

Our  duty  done,  the  soul  how  strong  and  bright ! 
So  shines  a  mountain  in  morn's  gilding  beam 
Lifting  its  brilliant  head  calm  through  the  light, 
While  'neath  it  thunders  peal  and  light'nings 

gleam, 

And  madden 'd  torrents  hear  the  eagle's  scream. 
Oh  !  yet,  as  roar  the  clouds  by  tempests  whirl'd, 
More  beautiful  those  glittering  summits  seem 
That  tower  from  gloom  where  vengeance  round 

is  hurl'd, 
And  crown'd  with  sparkling  snows,  stand  monarchs 

of  the  world. 

When  through  the  city  it  was  spread  by  fame 
Valerian  and  his  Bride  had  Christ  confess'd, 
Most  madly  burn'd  the  universal  flame — • 
From   slave    to   monarch   vengeance    in    each 

breast ; 
The    temple's    priest   and   suppliant    rage 

express 'd— 
He  who  adorn'd  the  shrine,  and  who  adored, 


TEE   ROMAN   MARTYRS.       229 

And  who  the  victims  sold,  or  victims  bless'd, 
Till  through  each  rank  the  blaze  of  malice  soar'd, 
And  round  Rome's  pontiff-throne  its  selfish  fury 
pour'd. 

Thus  I  have  seen  a  flame  creep  o'er  a  vale 
And  slowly  climb  along  some  towering  height, 
Wavering,  and  glimmering,  and  in  sunbeams 

pale ; 
But  fierce  and  reddening  with  the  storm  and 

night 

It  higher  flashes,  wider  and  more  bright, 
Until  it  roars ,  billows  on  billows  hurl'd, 
And  burns  that  mount,  a  pyramid  of  light 
Whose  top  is  fire  by  tempests  dash'd  and  whirl'd, 
While  wild  destructions  blaze  to  terrify  a  world. 

Into  the  Coliseum  now  is  rushing  Rome  ; 
Behold  the  mighty  pile  majestic  stand, 
Lifting  its  wall  without  a  roof  or  dome 
Above  the  pigmied  crowd,  silent  and  grand ; 
Type  of  a  Power  that  can  a  world  command, 
Rising  to  heav'n  a  monument  of  gloom, 
Whose  shadows  darken  earth's  remotest  land  ; 
Glowing  and  pack'd  with  life,  and  yet  a  tomb 
Where  nations  see  their  sons  dragg'd  to  a  bloody 
doom. 


230        THE   ROMAN   MARTYRS. 

The  circling  crowd,  all-madden'd,  sways  and 

heaves, 

And  whisper'd  murmurs  swell  to  stormy  cries, 
As  I  have  seen  on  tapering  boughs  the  leaves 
Quiver  and  tinkle  when  the  breeze  first  sighs, 
Which  soon,  a  tempest  turn'd,  sweeps  o'er  the 

skies ; 
Branch  shrieks  to  branch,  the  tossing  forest 

roars, 

And  as  the  splinter'd  fragment  whirls  and  flies, 
Higher  and  farther  yet  the  fury  pours, 
Till  bursting  to  the  clouds  a  whirlwind's  tumult 

soars. 

How  can  a  Christian  into  future  woe 
A  spirit  lost  and  lone  for  ever  send, 
When  his  own  soul,  unfetter'd  by  the  blow, 
On  wing  of  light  would  up  to  heav'n  ascend, 
Soaring  where  saint  and  seraph  shine  and  blend  ? 
His  weapons  dash'd  to  earth,  Valerian  stands, 
While  circling  angels  round  in  love  do  bend, 
And  placed  across  his  breast  his  folded  hands, 
That  multitude  to  awe  his  majesty  commands. 

See,  from  his  face  immortal  lustre  streams, 
And  on  his  head  a  diadem  of  light ! 
Around  his  form  a  dazzling  glory  beams 


THE   ROMAN   HART  YE  8.        231 

As  if  an  angel  stood  before  our  sight, 

Whom  Truth  had  arm'd  to  battle  for  the  right. 

With  weapons  poised,  three  trembling  wretches 

now, 

Before  such  goodness  pale,  pause  in  their  fright, 
While  grows  the  brilliance  on  Valerian's  brow 
As  Heav'n,  with  its   own   crown,  approves  the 
martyr's  vow. 

The  monarch's  signs  and  people's  rising  rage 
From  tier  to  circling  tier,  soon  break  the  spell, 
And  then,  like  wild  beasts  rushing  from  their 

cage, 

The  gladiators  strike  with  blow  and  yell 
And  fury  kindled  by  a  spark  of  hell. 
Valerian,  wounded,  staggers  o'er  the  ground, 
Where  left  in  slippery  blood  a  lion  fell, 
Then  sinking  on  the  beast  with  gasping  sound 
He  waves  a  silver  cross  in  holy  triumph  round. 

As  touch'd  by  evening's  ray  that  Christian  sign 
Around  the  Coliseum  gleams  and  glows, 
With  brilliance  glittering  which  appear'd  divine, 
And  o'er  the  crowd  defiant  splendour  throws  ; 
Prom  rank  to  rank  wild  flames  of  hate  arose 
Till  never  ./Etna  blazed  when  earthquakes  rend 
Its  sides  of  rock,  and  down  red  lava  flows, 


232        THE  ROMAN  MARTYRS. 

And  flashing  to  the  clouds  its  fires  ascend, 
Like  those  indignant  tiers  where  hate  and  rage  do 
blend. 

Swift  through  the  storm  Valerian's  spirit  goes 
By  angels  guided  into  blissful  skies, 
And  looking  downward,  smiling,  sees  its  foes, 
And  higher  mounting  faintly  hears  their  cries, 
While  they  behold  his  clay  with  furious  eyes. 
A  monarch's  frown,  an  empire's  rage  how  small 
To  him,  who  soaring  through   earth's   clouds, 

descries 
The  glittering  battlements  of   heav'n's   bright 

wall, 
And  that  Eternal  King  who  is  the  light  of  all ! 

And  while  Valerian  thus  has  met  his  doom, 

Cecilia  sits  and  views  the  golden  west, 

And  reads  her  death  in  its  fast- gathering  gloom. 

In  white  baptismal  robes  behold  her  dress'd  ! 

A  golden  crucifix  is  on  her  breast, 

And  on  her  hair  a  virgin  fillet  bound 

Whose  clasp  a  wedding  diamond  shines  confess'd. 

Day's  lingering  lustre  o'er  her  head  streams 

round, 
And  floating  to  her  room  sweet  strains  angelic 

sound. 


THE  ROMAN  MARTYRS.        233 

Chamber  and  Coliseum  share  the  rage 
Against  the  Cross,  waked  by  imperial  power, 
Which,  all-relentless,  spares  nor  sex  nor  age, 
As  storms  hurl  Alpine  trees  which  high  may 

tower 

To  greet  the  sun,  and  crush  the  nestling  flower 
That  looks  aloft  with  its  blue  trembling  eye, 
Till  madly  when  the  roaring  heav'ns  do  lower, 
The  bright  and  scented  leaves  will  whirl  and  fly 
With  limbs  of  giant  pines  dash'd  o'er  the  blacken'd 

sky. 

If  torn  that  flower,  if  spoil'd  its  fragrant  bloom 
When  darkens  over  earth  the  storm's  wild  wing, 
It  is  not  swept  to  an  eternal  tomb ; 
But  fierce  tornadoes  will  its  seeds  far  fling 
O'er  a  wide  world,  and  thus  gay  beauties  bring 
To  brighten  empires  through  each  distant  age ; 
And  budding  out  of  death  truth  thus  will  spring 
When  error's  battles  sceptred  monarchs  wage, 
And  scatter  life-germs  round  e'en  on  the  tempest's 
rage. 

Lictor  and  Lady  face  to  face  do  stand 
Alone  within  her  chamber's  hallow'd  space. 
A  glittering  sword  grasp'd  in  his  lifted  hand, 
He  strong  in  arm,  and  terrible  in  face  ; 


234-        THE  ROMAN   MARTYRS. 

Cecilia  frail,  in  woman's  softest  grace ; 

He  a   low   wretch   cloth'd   with    an    empire's 

might ; 

She  doom'd,  and  yet  of  Pompey's  splendid  race  ; 

He  stands  a  man,  now  pale  with  tremulous  fright, 

While  she  an  angel  smiles  in  innocence  and  light. 

Thrice   strikes   the  Lictor  that  pure  breast  of 

snow 

Heaving  beneath  its  white  baptismal  fold, 
When,  gushing  out,  the  crimson  currents  flow, 
And  to  the  floor  in  martyr-drops  are  roll'd, 
Staining  the  path  of  faith  to  joy  untold. 
Cecilia  falls,  and  glory  round  her  gleams ; 
Hark  !     seraph-music  breathes  from   harps   of 

gold, 

And  on  her  face  celestial  radiance  streams 
Which   Christ   has   flash'd  o'er   death   in   bright, 

immortal  beams. 

Sailing  upon  the  blue  of  evening's  sky 
Oft  I  have  seen  a  cloud  of  spotless  white, 
Which  stopp'd,  with  yet  no  brilliance  for  the 

eye, 

But  as  the  sun,  his  face  enlarged  and  bright, 
Pour'd  forth  in  levell'd  floods  his  parting  light 
.   Into  those  mists,  they  take  his  blaze,  and  burn 


THE   ROMAN  MARTYRS.       235 

Till  Heav'n  seems   shining  down   on  mortal 

sight: 

And  thus  o'er  dying  saints  some  halo  plays 
From  that  Diviner  Orb  whence  stream  eternal  rays. 

Cecilia's  spirit  softly  breathes  away 
By  seraphs  wafted  on  low  warbled  strains, 
To  float  in  melodies  where  endless  day 
Its  glory  flashes  o'er  celestial  plains, 
And  never  yet  have  come  Time's  cares  or  pains. 
She  dies  like  sound  on  some  ^olian  string, 
Whose  lingering  whisper  in  the  ear  remains, 
Fading  from  earth  in  faintest  murmuring 
As  if  in  heaven  to  burst,  and  thrill  where  angels 
sing. 


THE    DELUGE. 


THE    DELUGE. 

ON  wood  where  burst  a  storm  when 

Adam  pass'd 
Accurs'd  through  Eden's  gate,  now 

echoes  back 
The  axe's  constant  stroke,  and  gophers  shake 
Their  towering  tops,  then  thunder  to  the  ground. 
See  patient  oxen  draw  the  weary  load, 
And  pile  the  plain  around  that  man  whose  brow 
Has  felt  the  tempests  of  six  hundred  years  ! 
Since  first  the  mountain  heard  his  sturdy  blows 
Twelve  crescent  moons  have  silver'd  o'er  the  sky, 
Then  turn'd  their  fuller  circles  into  gold. 
Crowds  view  the  work.      Doth  here  a  palace  rise, 
Or  hence  shall  glittering  tower  a  temple's  dome  ? 
Silent  the  patriarch  toils,  until  his  hand 
Has  shaped  a  mighty  Ark,  heav'd  high  in  air, 
And  made  to  breast  the  storm  and  ride  the  wave. 


240  THE    DELUGE. 

What   shouts   of  scornful    laughter  shake  the 

skies  ! 

Now  from  beyond  the  flood  I  hear  their  taunts — 
"Ha,  venerable  fool,  what  turns  thy  brain? 
Where  spreads  a  sea  to  float  th'  unwieldy  hulk  ? 
Or  wilt  thou  sail  her  on  these  burning  sands  ? 
Or  shall  the  sky  drop  oceans  from  above, 
Or   wilt  thou  call  them   from    earth's    bursting 

breast  ?  " 

"Tis  winter  in  thy  heart,  remorseless  Scorn  ! 
Thy  smile  disdainful  chills  the  tides  of  life, 
And  merit  withers  at  thy  icy  touch ; 
Yea  !  thou  hast  snatch'daway  the  martyr's  crown, 
And  laugh'd  to  shut  on  him  the  gate  of  Life. 

I  see  the  patriarch  kneel,  and  while  his  tears 
Drop  on  the  floor,  his  modest  prayer  ascends, 
And  soon  are  hush'd  the  tempests  of  his  breast. 
Joy  lights  his  soul,  and  vigour  nerves  his  arm, 
Till  on  the  beam  loud  rings  his  hammer's  stroke : 
And  when  the  crowd  may  mock,  he  mounts  his  ark 
To  blend  love's  warning  with  a  prophet's  awe. 

On  him  whom  Heav'n  gives  o'er  'tis  sad  to  gaze. 
Bright  health  may  pencil  beauty  on  his  cheek, 
And  grace  breathe  o'er  his  acts,  and  he  may  shine 
A  star  whose  glory  wide  the  nations  praise  : 


THE    DELUGE.  241 

Yet  draw  the  veil !    He  walks  amid  a  cloud  ; 
And  drags  a  coffin  to  each  scene  of  joy. 
A  mother's  tear  can  bring  no  answering  drop ; 
A  father's  prayer  falls  back  on  silenced  lips ; 
And  night's  eternal  shadow  settles  round. 

If  like  a  tree  stripp'd  of  its  brilliant  bloom, 
And  black  with  blasting  fire  and  struck  by  death, 
Tossing  its  moaning  branches  in  the  gloom, 
One  thus  foredoom'd,  what  then  a  teeming  world  ! 
Death  laughs  to  hear  its  song,  and  lures  it  on 
To  darker  woe,  and  grins  where  hearthstones  blaze. 
As  maidens  crown  the  bride,  he  blasts  the  flowers, 
And  from  his  cloud,  while  thunders  scare,  he  cries, 
"  Hail,  my  gay  children,  hail !    Wave  high  the 

torch, 

Swim  through  the  dance,  and  drink  the  purple  wine  : 
Make  bright  a  world  which  soon  will  prove  a 

tomb ; 
Wear  garlands  gay,  and  deck  your  paths  to  me ! " 

In  such  a  world  long  did  the  patriarch  toil ; 
None  heard  beyond  his  home,  and  on  the  stream, 
Wild,  turbulent,  and  dark,  roll'd  over  earth. 
Yet  leans  he  on  the  hand  that  made  the  sun ; 
Faith  hears  from  future  years  a  voice  of  joy, 
And  sees  an  altar  by  a  rainbow  spann'd. 
B 


242  THE    DELUGE. 

Behold  his  work  achieved  !  As  some  lone  isle 
Heaved  up  by  earthquakes  from  a  tropic  deep, 
Lifts  high  its  rocks,  and  scorns  the  battling  sea, 
Thus  that  majestic  Ark  towers  o'er  the  plain, 
And  dares  from  sky  and  earth  their  torrent  floods. 

Trees  which  had  stood  while  yet  the  sun  was 

young,  , 

And  Adam  shelter'd  with  their  monarch-boughs, 

That  vessel  form.    Three  stories  make  three  halls  ; 

Through    one  large   window  comes    the  light  of 

heav'n — 

No  need  of  more  when  all  the  sky  is  cloud — 
No  san,  nor  moon,  nor  star  to  pierce  the  gloom, 
Whose  shadows  soon  will  mantle  round  a  world. 
Maybe,  bright  pendent  lamps  dispell'd  the  night : 
Maybe,  Jehovah's  presence  was  the  day. 
One  door  was  there  for  all  life  spared  on  earth. 
From  fires,  pitch  roll'd  its  smoke,  and  on  each 

seam 

In  ladles  pour'd,  made  black  the  lofty  Ark, 
Bidding  defiance  to  the  coming  floods  ; 
Piled  high  within  the  wealth  of  summers  lies 
To  save  our  world  from  universal  death. 

See  near  the  Ark  that  pair  whence  came  our 
race  ! 


THE   DELUGE.  243 

'Mid  sadness  and  despair  I  hear  a  cry  : 

"Ah!    why  this  toil?   Why  thus  wear  out  thy 

strength  ? 

Why  store  this  Ark,  and  starve  thy  wife  and  sons  ? 
They  grudge  each  stroke,  amid  the  scorn  of  foes  ; 
Cease  thy  vain  work — thy  silly  Ark  tear  down, 
And  use  its  harvests  for  thyself,  and  us  ! 
Or  let  yon  altar-brand  light  up  its  flames, 
That  it  no  more  may  kindle  for  us  hate  ! 
Most  vain  thy  dreams  !  ISTor  bird,  nor  beast  will 

come, 
Self-moved,  from  distant  lands  to  seek  thy  Ark." 

A  beam  of  glory  gilds  o'er  Noah's  brow ; 
His  tone  is  soft,  yet  as  the  trumpet  clear  : 
"  Shall    God   be  mock'd,  by  whom  I  dare  the 

world  ? 

My  work  complete,  shall  I  fling  off  my  crown 
Just  when  its  glittering  rim  comes  near  my  brow  ? 
Should  I  take  out  my  stores,  or  burn  my  Ark, 
What  shouts  of  scorn  from  earth  would  burst  o'er 

me ! 
Jehovah  I  will  trust  while  shines  his  sun ! " 

Lo  !  sudden  thunders  burst  out  from  a  wood, 
And  roar  on  roar  shakes  startled  earth  and  air, 
As  two  majestic  lions  stalk  in  view ! 


244  THE    DELUGE. 

When  morning's  sun  first  beam'd  down  on  their 

lair, 

They  started  from  their  dens,  and  wander'd  round, 
Until,  like  magnet-isles  which  vessels  draw, 
Th'  unconscious  Ark  attracts  the  kingly  beasts. 
With  stately  pride  the  long-maned  monster  treads, 
His  crouching  mate  submissive  at  his  side. 

New  wonders  rise.     Two  giant  elephants 
With    twisting    trunks,  and   tusks  of  gleaming 

white, 

Lift  swift  on  clumsy  feet  their  monstrous  bulk  ; 
Between  their  pendent  ears  no  riders  sit. 
Where  Gunga  rolls  his  wave,  and  banyans  make 
With  rooted  boughs  their  dark  and  pillar'd  shade, 
Thence  were  they  moved,  till  towers  the  Ark  in 

view. 

A  tiger-pair  behind  their  stripes  display, 
And  graceful  leopards  show  their  spotted  sides. 
The  noble  steed  that  paw'd  Arabia's  plains, 
And  in  wide  nostrils  snuff1  d  the  flying  sands ; 
Unwieldy  behemoth,  the  frail  gazelle, 
Boas  that  wind  with  speed  their  ponderous  length, 
All  kinds  that  walk  or  creep  from  pole  to  pole, 
And  round  the  burning  circles  of  the  globe — 
Parents  of  those  who  roam  our  second  world — 
One  vast  procession,  troop  towards  the  Ark. 


THE    DELUGE.  245 

Low  down  upon  the  sky,  behold  two  specks, 
That  soon  with  wings   appear  !     As  full-sail'd 

ships 

That  bound  before  the  breeze,  those  condors  cleave 
Aloft  the  airy  deep,  then  pause,  and  gaze, 
And  drop  in  slow  gyrations  on  the  deck. 
Where  now  the  Andes  part  the  clouds  of  heav'n. 
They  spread  their  pinions  on  a  mountain-cliff, 
And  left  their  homes  to  steer  sublime  their  way. 
The  monarch-eagle  not  in  circles  now 
Towers  to  the  sun,  but  flies  in  even  course, 
Till  on  the  pitchy  roof  he  rests  his  feet ; 
The  ostrich  starting  from  Sahara's  sands, 
Lifts  up  his  form,  and  plies  his  uncouth  wings, 
Borne  on  his  lengthy  limbs  from  dreaded  death, 
While  peacocks  drag  along  their  rainbow  plumes. 
Birds  gay  as  tropic  flowers,  or  white  as  snows, 
Of  every  size,  and  form,  and  wing,  and  hue, 
Fast-flocking  fly  from  all  the  climes  of  earth, 
Till  day  is  darken'd  with  their  sounding  wings, 
And,  cloud  on  cloud,  down  settle  on  the  Ark. 

Huge  ocean-monsters  gambolling  on  the  wave, 
With  those  in  coral  depths,  and  fish  that  swim 
Majestic  streams,  or  glittering  glide  in  brooks, 
Safe  in  their  watery  homes  dread  not  the  flood, 
Nor  feel  the  strange  attraction  lure  them  on. 


246  THE    DELUGE. 

The  Ark  is  fill'd,  and  Noah  cries  :   "  Ascend 
My  wife  and  sons  !    This  hour  repays  our  toil ! 
Jehovah  praise,  whose  word  is  thus  proved  sure  ! 
His  love  will  guide  o'er  oceans  wild  with  death ! 
Then,  blow  ye  storms,  and  burst,  ye  torrent-floods ! 
Flash  forth,  ye  lightnings !  loud,  ye  thunders,  roar ! 
Oh  earth,  farewell !   Ye  hills  kiss'd  by  the  sun  ; 
Ye  flowering  vales,  and  sheltering  trees,  farewell  ! 
Farewell,  ye  men  o'er  whom  I  still  weep  tears, 
And  each  small  thing  I  loved  on  earth,  farewell ! 
Oh  world,  where  Eden  smiled,  farewell !  farewell ! " 

Hand  now  in  hand  the  Prophet  and  his  spouse, 
With  solemn  tread  and  slow,  ascend  the  Ark  ; 
Shem,  Ham,  and  Japheth  follow  with  their  wives. 
Jehovah  shuts  them  in,  and  bars  the  door, 
Lest  they,  with  pity  weak  may  draw  the  bolt 
And  rebels  save  whom  Justice  doom'd  to  death. 

Awe  like  a  midnight  settles  o'er  the  world ; 
Pale  faces  dart  amid  the  gloom,  and  lips 
Low  murmur  fear.     The  mother  grasps  her  child, 
Press'd  with  convulsive  shudders  to  her  breast, 
And  looks  with  frantic  gaze  into  the  sky. 
Now  shrieks  of  men  and  cries  of  beasts  burst  out. 
One  dog's  long  howl  rose  hideous  on  the  wind — 
Yell  after  yell — 'till  silenced  by  a  blow. 
Groups  view  the  clouds,  or  start  when  tempests 
sweep, 


TEE    DELUGE.  247 

While  conscience  wakes,  and  JSToah's  warnings  burst 
Like  thunders  from  the  past,  and  earth  grows  still, 
As  if  to  hear  her  final  note  of  doom. 

The  Heavens  are  changed.      Clouds   piled  on 

clouds  rush  on, 

Sweeping  in  mountain-masses  o'er  the  sky, 
Then  mingling  stand  one  roof  of  angry  black. 
Storm  shrieks  to  storm — to  thunders,  thunders 

peal, 

And  lightnings  blaze,  and  skies  dash  torrents  down, 
By  column' d  waters  met  that  spout  from  earth, 
Till  murmuring  brooks  sweep  on  resistless  floods, 
The  valleys  fill,  and  rush  along  the  hills ; 
Earth  groans  convulsed  with  pangs,  and  rivers  bear 
The  houses  down,  and  flocks  and  struggling  men. 
Wild  ocean  clamours  now  to  rule  the  world, 
And  shrill  despair  is  heard  above  the  storms. 
Crowds  seek  the  Ark,  with  glaring  eyeballs  kneel, 
And  stretching  out  vain  hands,  for  mercy  shriek  ; 
Some  scale  the  pitchy  sides,  but  baffled  soon, 
Down  from  the  fatal  smoothness  drop  to  die. 
Some  ladders  lean  which  envious  waves  wash  o'er. 
Others  with  ponderous  axes  cut  the  wood, 
Till  strangling  waters  stop  their  useless  blows  ; 
Some  climb  the  trees,  the  roofs  and  towers  ascend, 
In  frenzy  vain  rush  screaming  up  the  hills. 


248  THE    DELUGE. 

Mad  floods  pursue.     The  sudden-roaring  blast, 

A  billow  seizing  by  its  crested  top, 

Soon  dashes  down  a  mountain  on  their  heads. 

Trees,  hills  are  hid.     The  tall-tower'd  city  sinks, 

And  monsters  swim  above  its  ghastly  dead  ; 

One  wretch,  the  last  of  earth,  a  summit  scales 

Which  looks  o'er  all  the  sea,  and  on  its  top 

A  moment  stands,  seen  in  the  lightning's  glare, 

With  streaming  hair,  and  tight-clench'd  fists,  and 

brow 

That  dares  the  storm,  till  billows  hurl  him  off, 
Extorting  yells  that  louder  shriek  than  floods : 
Then  Heav'n  is  all  a  cloud,  and  Earth  a  sea  ! 

The  Ark  floats  towering  o'er  the  fatal  waves, 
And  rides  above  the  solitary  world ; 
Amid  the  roar  of  storms  hear  Noah's  voice  : 
"  Jehovah  praise,  whose  mercy  gave  my  Ark ! 
Ye  floods  and  tempests  join  to  sound  him  thanks  ! 
Ye  beasts  rejoice,  and  ye  bright  tuneful  birds, 
Who  in  the  tree-tops  sang,  or  in  the  clouds, 
As  once  when  glowing  morning  woke  your  lays 
Fill  with  your  sweetest  notes  my  friendly  Ark  ! 
Praise  Him  behind  your  clouds,  Sun,  Moon  and 

Stars  ! 
Glad  Angels,  strike  your  harps  and   cheer  our 

gloom  ! 


TEE    DELUGE.  249 

Behold  my  Ark,  pledge  of  the  Promised  Seed, 
And  thrill  the  Heav'n   and   Earth  with  joyful 
praise  !" 

While  Cherubim  admire  from  hills  of  life, 
From  shades  of  death  the  Prince  of  Night  surveys. 
With  lip  of  hate,  and  eye  that  roll'd  in  pain 
Yet  gleam'd  revenge,  his  words  of  scorn  shook  hell : 
"  Princes,  when  burst  our  chain,  and  dropp'd  our 

yoke, 

We  malice  chose  for  love  and  ill  for  good  ; 
Praises  to  curses  turn'd,  and  bliss  to  pain. 
Where  God  would  bless  we  blast,  and  where  He 

saves 

We  counterwork  to  damn,  and  build  up  hell ; 
His  Son  I  would  hurl  down  and  take  His  throne ; 
Nor  have  I  fail'd  against  Omnipotence ; 
I  with  an  apple  blasted  Eden's  bloom, 
And  let  in  death  to  riot  o'er  a  world  ; 
By  waters  chill'd  have  millions  sought  my  fire. 
The  greater  task  achieved,  the  less  is  sure. 
But  eight  of  earth  survive — within  an  Ark — 
Toss'd  on  mad  waves — a  plank  'twixt  them  and 

death  ! 

Fly  ye,  and  pierce  that  hulk  !  Shake  Noah's  faith ! 
Scale  the  black  cloud  and  hurl  the  lightning-bolt ! 
Dash  oceans  down,  and  let  wild  waters  in ! 


250  THE   DELUGE. 

Let  whirlwinds  sweep  the  wreck  beneath  the  sea  ! 
Earth  then  is  mine,  when  ends  the  woman's  seed  ! 
Oh,  yet,  unbruis'd,  refulgent  to  the  stars 
My  head  shall  tower,  and  wear  Jehovah's  crown  !  " 

Forthwith  their  rushing  pinions  darken  hell, 
And  they  shriek  round  the  Ark.     On  nimble  feet 
With  aiding  wings  some  climb  and  mount  the  wave 
To  dash  it  on  the  deck,  while  lightnings  blaze, 
And  demons  yell,  and  thunders  drown  the  storm. 
Destruction  laughs,  and  Death  rides  o'er  our  world. 

Thus  Noah's  faith  allays  each  rising  fear : 
"  When  sin  first  blasted  earth,  Jehovah  said, 
'  The  woman's  seed  shall  bruise  the  serpent's  head.' 
If  sinks  my  groaning  Ark,  that  promise  fails, 
And  Hell  defeats  her  Lord,  which  cannot  be. 
No  plank  shall   start !    no  seam   shall  drink  the 

flood! 

The  Hand  that  made  the  earth  clasps  round  my  Ark, 
That  from  my  loins  may  spring  the  Hope  of  man  ! 
I  dare  thee,  Hell!  My  God  will  guard  His  own  ! " 


Jehovah  pleased  beholds  His  servant's  faith. 
Bow'd  now  in  heav'n  each  knee  and  hush'd  each 
song, 


THE    DELUGE.  251 

A  Voice  Omnipotent  the  silence  breaks  : 

"  My  angels,  see  on  earth  that  gloom  of  clouds 

Where  madden'd  fiends  hurl  round  wild  waves  and 

storms, 

And  Death  rides  on  the  blast  o'er  Noah's  Ark  ! 
My  servant's  faith  has  stood  the  shock  of  Hell  ! 
Then  drive  those  devils  back,  and  calm  the  sea ! 
My  Word  shall  stand  !  Yon  Ark  shall  save  the 

world !  " 

Swift  down  from  Heav'n  they  drop  like  falling 

stars  ; 
And,  pierced  the  dreadful  gloom  that  roofs  the 

world, 

They  light  upon  the  waves,  and  range  for  war. 
Clothed  with  a  morning  cloud,  amid  the  gloom 
Their  Leader  stood,  bright  as  a  sun  his  helm 
That  turn'd  to  stars  the  drops  upon  his  wings. 
His  right  hand  grasp' d  a  sword,  his  left  a  trump 
Of   glittering  gold   whose    blast  oft   peal'd    o'er 

heav'n ; 

Press'd  to  his  lips,  its  music  thrills  the  earth, 
And  makes  the  tempests  still ;  waves  bow  their 

heads, 

The  clouds  take  wing,  the  thunders  sink  away, 
And  skies  are  bright,  and  the  wide  ocean  calm. 
Scared  back  to  hell  no  devil  battle  dares ; 


252  THE    DELUGE. 

With  shouts  of  joy  those  angels  spring  through  air, 
Outstrip  the  light,  and  reach  Jehovah's  throne. 

Soon  dried  the  sea,  the  Ark  rests  on  the  earth 
A  silent  witness  of  Eternal  Love. 

An  angel  draws  the  bolt,  and  with  glad  eyes 
The  grateful  group  look  forth  to  view  the  world. 
Hear  Noah's  voice :  "  Oh,  God,  my  work  is  done  ! 
First  be  to  Thee  my  thanks,  then  Earth  I  hail ! 
Welcome,  ye  naked  hills,  and  flowerless  vales, 
And  mountains  bleak,  and  bare  and  ragged  trees  ! 
Ye- streams  and  oceans,  let  me  hail  you  all ! 
Welcome,  thou  sun,  bright  morn,  and  gentle  eve ! 
Spring  swift,  ye  flowers !  Ye  roses,  lift  your  heads ! 
Ye  lilies,  scent,  and,  daisies,  deck  the  fields ! 
Come  forth,  thou  silent  grass,  and  robe  the  world  ! 
Ye  leaves,  appear !  Ye  glowing  blossoms,  burst 
And  flush  your  beauty  o'er  the  naked  lands  ! 
Oh !  quick,  ye  harvests,  wave  and  fruits  depend, 
And  every  varied  plant  adorn  the  scene  ! 
Beasts,  seek  your  fields,  and,  birds,  cheer  earth  with 

song ! 

And  go  ye  forth,  my  sons,  to  fill  the  world ! 
Plough  the  rich  soil,  and  busy  cities  build ; 
In  social  commerce  join  sea-sever'd  shores, 
And  make  this  dreary  waste  bloom  o'er  with  joy  ! " 


THE    DELUGE.  253 

Hand  now  in  hand  come  forth  the  aged  pair — 
The  children  next,  who  kneel  around  their  sire 
And  kiss  the  earth,  and  fill  the  air  with  praise. 
The  beasts  pass  out  and  darken  o'er  the  plain, 
Arid  birds  on  rushing  wings  fly  over  heav'n, 
Until  that  Ark  stands  silent  as  a  hill. 

See  Noah  and  his  sons,  who  gather  stones 
Roll'd  by  the  floods,  and  a  square  altar  build ! 
The  wood  is  cleft,  the  sacrifice  is  slain, 
And  fragrant  clouds  their  odours  waft  to  God, 
Whose  voice  the  stillness  breaks  of  that  young 

world  : 

"  No  more  for  sin  shall  earth  be  cursed  by  floods ; 
Seed-time  and  harvest  hence,  with  cold  and  heat, 
And  day  and  night  remain  secure  for  man." 

While  all  around  the  blazing  altar  kneel, 
A  sudden  radiance  trembling  from  the  vale, 
Rests  on  the  mountain's  brow,  and  climbs  the 

skies, 

Then  bending  down  in  vast  majestic  curve 
With  quivering  glories  paints  the  ocean's  wave — 
Eternal  token  of  Jehovah's  Love. 


THE    PERIODS. 


THE    PERIODS. 

CANTO    I. 
THE    DAY. 

MORNING. 

E  twilight  dim 
Lines  ocean's  brim : 
And  stars  from  sight, 
Hide  in  the  light 
Whose  burnish'd  gold 
O'er  Heav'n  is  roll'd. 
As  the  sun  above  the  sky 
Lifts  his  royal  head  on  high, 
His  beamy  way 
Where  splendours  play, 
With  flaming  ray 
Begins  the  day. 
While  the  painted  vapours  fly 
Like  wild  phantoms  o'er  the  eye, 
s 


258  THE    PERIODS. 

And  the  dew-drops  glow 
On  the  flowers  bent  low, 
And  the  sunbeams  flash 
Where  the  rivers  dash, 
Hark  !  the  groves  warble  loud 
To  the  lark  in  his  cloud, 
As  rosy  MORNING'S  voice 
Bids  waking  earth  rejoice  ! 


NOON. 

That  monarch-sun, 
His  course  half  done, 
Sits  throned  in  light 
On  the  heav'n's  height. 
A  crown  of  beams  about  his  head  ; 
Bright  robes  of  glory  round  him  spread  ! 
Now  the  shadows  grow  small 
From  the  quivering  wall, 
And  field  and  hill 
With  heat  are  still. 
How  the  pulse  of  the  world  beats  exhausted  and 

low  ! 
How  the  breath  of  the  world  comes  hard,  panting, 

and  slow  ! 

How  the  face  of  the  world  is  one  broad,  burning 
glow, 


THE    PERIODS.  259 

While  the  day  in  his  ire, 
Like  a  furnace  of  fire, 
Scorches  NOON. 

EVENING. 

On  the  earth  a  holy  hush, 
O'er  the  sky  a  purple  blush, 

Soft  Eve  proclaim. 
Down  the  golden  gates  of  day 
Sinks  the  sun  with  slanted  ray. 
From  yon  wooded  hill, 
In  the  twilight  still, 
Cries  the  whip-poor-will ; 
The  night-owl,  in  his  oak, 
Hears  the  frog's  solemn  croak  ; 
The  crickets  chirp,  the  beetles  drum, 
And  earth  is  lull'd  with  insect  hum. 
As  shadows  deeper  grow, 
And  the  winds  whisper  low  : 
Hush  !  with  that  fading  light 
Eve  sinks  away  in  night. 
• 

MIDNIGHT. 

The  silent  stars  are  in  the  sky, 
The  moon  amid  her  clouds  rides  high, 
Whose  quivering  light,  soft,  bright,  and  still, 
Silvers  the  vale  and  bathes  the  hill. 


260  THE    PERIODS. 

Comes  through  the  dark 

The  night-dog's  bark, 

While  mortals  sleep 

In  slumbers  deep. 

The  fox  steals  forth  with  stealthy  tread  ; 
Beneath  his  wing  the  fowl's  dull  head. 

Where  rivers  flow 

The  mists  creep  low  ; 

Now  dreams  invade 

From  realms  of  shade, 
As  midnight's  awful  shadow  has  its  birth 
To  wrap  like  death  in  deeper  sleep  the  earth. 


CANTO  II. 
THE    YEAR. 

SPRING. 

HE  glowing  sun  now  warms  the  breeze, 
And  darts  his  virtues  through  the  trees 

To  make  life-currents  rise, 
Which,  working  in  the  dark, 
Expand  the  swelling  bark 
'Neath  ever-milder  skies. 
Heralds  of  the  new-born  year, 
See  the  infant  buds  appear ! 


THE    PERIODS.  261 

Waked  from  the  dead 

The  young  leaves  spread, 
Till  the  forests  of  the  world 
Stand  with  banners  green  unfurl'd. 

Broke  nature's  sleep, 

The  grasses  creep, 

Slow,  bright,  and  still, 

From  vale  to  hill, 

Till  green  robes  earth  with  its  soft  dye, 
As  tints  sweet  blue  the  circling  sky — 
Hues  mix'd  by  God  to  please  man's  eye. 
Soon  born  the  birds  of  everv  wins;- 

•/  o  * 

Which  hop,  or  fly,  or  coo,  or  sing  ! 
The  streams  unbound 
A  voice  have  found, 
And  shout  around 
With  joyous  sound, 
We  are  free 
In  our  glee. 

Hark !  blust'ring  March  subdued  is  whispering  low ; 
Then  show'ring  clouds  float  tinged  with  April's 

glow; 

And  sinking  rivers  glide  with  murmuring  flow. 
Flush'd  with  a  purple  ray, 
Crown' d  by  the  smiling  May. 
Where  morning  clouds  in  golden  masses  lie, 
Like  angels  at  the  portals  of  the  sky, 


262  THE    PERIODS. 

Beneath  a  rainbow's  arch  of  splendid  dye 
Whose  painted  glories  quiver  in  the  eye — 
Brightest  blossoms  thy  zone, 
Sweetest  rose-buds  thy  throne, 
In  a  car  of  flowers 
Just  wet  with  the  showers, 
Fade  on,  thou  blushing  SPRING  ! 

SUMMER. 

Sprinkled  with  dews  and  showers,  and    warm'd 

by  noon 

To  glory  bursts  the  rose  of  fragrant  June  ! 
On  the  trees  the  leaves  still  denser  grow, 
And  their  silent  shadows  darker  throw 
In  the  longer  day's  intenser  glow, 

While  a  wide-quivering  haze, 
Ascending  in  the  blaze 
As  brighter  burn  the  rays, 
Floats  dream-like  o'er  the  gaze. 
Not  wildly  brawl  the  brooks,  swift,  wide,  and  deep. 
Bat  painfully  slow,  faint- murmuring  creep  ; 
Majestic  rivers,  shrunken  in  the  sun, 
Leave  glaring  rocks  where  waters  cool  have  run. 
With  dozing  eye  and  panting  side 
The  ox  stands  meekly  in  the  tide ; 
Faint,  with  necks  along  the  ground, 
Where  noon-shadows  lie  around, 


THE    PERIODS.  263 

The  quick-breathing  sheep  are  found. 

Low  as  some  distance-muffled  drum 

The  drooping  city's  wearied  hum  ; 

Fierce  heat  has  hush'd  the  field's  gay  choirs, 

And  shrinking  from  day's  scorching  fires 

Far  in  the  wood  the  bird  retires 

Where  scarce  a  glancing  wing  aspires. 

Deep  the  beast  in  his  den 

Pants  till  night  comes  again  ; 

Without,  the  mountain  bare 

Glows  in  the  burning  air. 

Nor  now  the  cheery  song 

As  the  reaper  stalks  along ; 

Nor  now  shakes  down  the  dew 

As  cuts  the  sickle  through : 

Nor  now,  as  in  the  morn, 

Winds  loud  the  harvest  horn  ; 

But  like  a  furnace  flames  the  sky, 

And  looks  the  sun  with  fiercer  eye, 

And  lurid  clouds  float  glaring  by. 

Where  late  o'er  standing  grain  the  sportive  breezes 

play'd, 

Now  resting  reapers  dozing  in  the  lazy  shade 
Amid  the  bearded  sheaves  of  wheatcocks  freshly 

made, 

And  all  the  yellow  wealth  of  harvests  prostrate  laid 
Show  brilliant  SUMMER'S  reign. 


264  THE    PERIODS. 

AUTUMN. 

High-piled  the  gather'd  sheaves  ! 

A  yellow  tinge  in  leaves  ! 

Steals  o'er  the  peach  its  flush 

Deep  as  the  evening's  blush  ! 

And  when  the  leaves  unfold 

Red  apples  gleam  o'er  gold, 

While  on  the  tangled  vine 

The  smooth,  round  melons  shine. 
Then  peeping  into  view  when  lifting  breezes  blow, 
Broad,  mantling  clusters  on  the  trellis'd  vineyards 

glow, 

Whose    streaming   currents    soon    shall    gush   in 
purple  flow. 

Up,  with  his  face  of  blood, 

Slow  o'er  the  deep-dyed  flood, 

The  sun,  despoil'd  of  rays, 

Mounts,  glaring  through  the  haze  ; 

Then  round  with  flaming  glow 

Burns  o'er  the  world  below, 

Till  in  his  evening  bed 

He  dips  his  globe  of  red. 

Gone  from  the  hazy  air  the  perish'd  insect's  hum. 
Dim  phantom-pheasants  in  the  thickets  lurking 

come, 

And  beat  the  mossy  log  with  whirring  thunder- 
drum. 


THE    PERIODS.  265 

Hark  !  from  his  rail 
On  morning's  gale, 
The  whistling  quail ! 
With   leg   and   tail   uprear'd  'mid  leaves  crisp'd 

brown, 

The  squirrel  gay  his  tinkling  nut  drops  down ; 
And  chattering  swallows  circling  on  the  wing, 
Debate  long  exile  till  the  smile  of  spring, 
While  high  the  clanging  wild  geese  floating  fly, 
In  long- wedged  squadrons  through  the  parted  sky. 
Now  here  and  there  amid  the  green 
A  changed  September  leaf  is  seen, 
Which  in  eddying  circles  wheels 
When  keen  October's  breath  it  feels, 
Or,  clinging  yet  to  its  frail  stem 
Until  it  flashes  like  a  gem, 
Displays  in  morning's  fresh'iiing  dew, 
Its  yellow  tinge  and  scarlet  hue  ; 
And  then,  before  November  storms 
And  blasting  frost  the  world  deforms, 
Fields,  orchards,  forests,  lawns,  hills,  plains,  and 

mountains  bold, 

Their  mingling  glories  to  the  redden'd  sun  unfold, 
Like  crimson  billows  flaming  o'er  a  sea  of  gold, 
Or    Heav'n's    effulgent    scenes    to    mortal    gaze 

unroll'd, 
And  gorgeous  AUTUMN  paint. 


266  THE    PERIODS. 

WINTER. 

Hark  !  shrill  the  blast 
Fierce-sweeping  past ! 
As  wild  it  blows, 
The  shutter  close ! 
Quick  !  stir  the  fire 
Till  flames  aspire  ; 
The  lamp  then  light, 
Which,  shining  bright, 
Dark  on  the  wall 
Makes  shadows  fall  ! 
The  soften'd  brilliance  of  the  room 
Gilds  age's  brow  and  childhood's  bloom  ; 
And  curling  ringlets  you  behold, 
Hide  infant  smiles  with  waving  gold. 
Without,  the  tempest  howls  ; 
Without,  the  black  sky  scowls ; 
Without,  the  beggar's  form 
Is  shivering  in  the  storm, 
And  from  the  winter-sea 
Shrieks  out  wild  agony. 

The  furious  winds  subdued,  huge  leaden  masses  lie 
Like  giant  spectres  dimly  on  the  silenced  sky  ; 
Then  dusky  clouds,  weigh'd  down,  the  noiseless 

scene  bend  o'er, 

And  the  still  heav'n  and  earth  seem  nearer  than 
before. 


THE    PERIODS.  2G7 

Now  dropping  through  the  air 
A  flake  melts  on  your  hair ; 
Lo  !  millions,  soft  and  light, 
Float  on  the  wavering  sight ; 
The  feathery  whiteness  still 
Descends  on  vale  and  hill ; 
Exhausted  grows  the  cloud, 
And  earth  lies  in  her  shroud ; 
Fields,  forests,  valleys,  mountains,  towns,  together 

show 

One  vast,  interminable  spectacle  of  snow. 
Down  the  steep  hill-side 
See  the  brave  boy  glide  ! 
While  glad  voices  sing, 
Sleigh-bells  merry  ring ! 
Circling  o'er  the  sky 
Let  the  snow-balls  fly  ! 
For  the  children's  sport 
Rise  the  wall  and  fort, 
Till  a  warmer  sun 
Melts  the  scene  of  fun. 
As  the  longer  nights  grow  cold 
Tapering  icicles  behold, 
With  their  silver  and  their  gold  ! 
At  opening  day, 
Where  sunbeams  play, 
The  icy  trees 


268  THE    PERIODS. 

Flash  in  the  breeze — 
On  leaf  and  stem 
The  quivering  gem  ! 
Now  the  stars  shine  small  and  bright 
In  the  stillness  of  the  night ; 
Now  each  captive  stream  around 
Stands  firm  in  ice-chains  bound, 
And  skaters  glance  and  fly 
Beneath  the  moonlit  sky, 
And  frost  and  snow  and  ice  on  vale  and  hill  and 

plain 

Show   WINTER  has    begun  his  cold,  remorseless 
reign. 

CANTO   III . 
LIFE.1 

INFANCY. 

»EEP  in  a  cavern  of  the  earth 
My  little  stream  has  mystic  birth ; 
Then  flows  to  sight 
In  morning  light 

Where  leaning  trees  with  arching  tops  ascend. 
And  o'er  a  mossy  rock  dim  shadows  blend 
With  perfume 
In  their  gloom. 

'  Suggested  by  Cole's  "  Voyage  of  Life." 


THE    PERIODS.  269 

On  waters  bright  to  float 
Emerging  comes  my  boat ; 
Beneath  a  smiling  sky 
'Mid  roses  soft  I  lie, 
While  wings  of  Hours  waft  by. 
Gay  flowers  on  either  side  the  waters  kiss, 
Whose  quiet  shadows  sleep,  the  types  of  bliss  ; 
Nor  gentle  clouds  that  sail  above  I  miss, 
Too  fair  in  beauty  for  a  world  like  this. 
With  form  most  bright, 
And  brow  of  light 
To  calm  my  fears, 
An  angel  steers. 
As  with  dimpled  cheeks  I  glide 
Where  soft-rippling  flows  the  tide, 
And  sweet-scented  breezes  chide, 
Lo  !  heav'n's  seraph-bands  preside, 
Waving  their  golden  wings  while  childhood  pure 

and  bright, 
A  brilliant  morning  vision,  floats  across  the  sight. 


YOUTH. 

Brighter  the  roses  flush, 
Deeper  the  clouds  red  blush, 

As  I  glide 

O'er  the  tide  ! 


270  THE    PERIODS. 

Let  the  angel  on  the  land 
In  his  foolish  sorrow  stand, 
Since  I  need  no  more  his  hand  ! 

Adieu,  every  fear ! 

My  own  boat  I  steer. 

Faster  !  ye  Hours  ! 

Strain  all  your  powers  ! 
Hands  try  ! 
Feet  ply ! 
Wings  vie 

Till  we  fly,  till  we  fly 
Like  clouds  upon  the  sky  ! 

At  my  boat  of  oak 

Let  age  snarl  and  croak  ! 

Against  the  shore 

Let  waters  roar  ! 

With  wild  turmoil 

Let  whirlpools  boil, 

And  demons  stare 

In  hellish  glare ! 
See,  smiling  far  above 
Are  Fame  and  Wealth  and  Love  ! 

Scorning  measure, 

Brilliant  Pleasure, 
Her  temple  in  the  sky 
With  its  dome  bright  and  high, 
A  glory  in  the  eye, 

Builds  for  YOUTH  ! 


THE   PERIODS.  271 

MANHOOD. 

A  wildering  glare 
Blinds  in  the  air  ! 
See  !   bright  the  lightnings  flash  ! 
Hark  !  wild  the  thunders  crash  ! 
How  the  billows  break  and  dash  ! 
And  the  Earth  wears  a  shroud, 
And  the  Heaven  seems  a  cloud  ; 
No  angel  guide 
Smiles  at  my  side. 
But,  a  vaunt,  grim  Despair  ! 
Each  peril  I  can  dare, 
And  my  life-burden  bear. 
Let  torrents  roar  and  rave, 
The  manly  and  the  brave 
Will  ride  upon  the  wave  ! 
Ye  lightnings,  swifter  fly  ! 
Storms,  fiercer  rend  the  sky  ! 
Rush,  waters,  wilder  by  ! 
Your  fury  I  defy  ! 
If  Ruin's  shock 
Creation  rock, 

While  helps  its  own  right  hand, 
In  God  will  MANHOOD  stand  ! 


272  THE    PERIODS. 

AGE. 

Life's  fires  have  ceased  to  glow, 
My  feeble  pulse  beats  slow, 
This  silver'd  head  bows  low. 
My  shatter'd  boat 
Just  keeps  afloat. 

But  oh  !  Life's  Angel  sheds  on  me  his  ray, 
And  steers  my  Age  to  his  immortal  day. 
While  dark  round  me 
Rolls  thy  far  sea, 

Eternity, 

Yet,  down  from  yon  bright  sky, 
Through  darkness  thick  and  high. 
Heav'n  pours  a  blaze  of  beams 
Till  earth  a  glory  seems. 

A  Form  Divine  I  see  round  which  the  angels  bend, 
Who  oft  to  me  on  waving  wings  in  light  descend. 

And  soon  I'll  soar  with  them  above, 
Where  Age  shall  turn  immortal  youth 
As  it  beholds  Incarnate  Truth, 

And  Life  be  everlasting  Love. 


VARIOUS     PIECES. 


VARIOUS   PIECES. 

OUR   FLAG. 


of  Beauty  !  wide  and  high, 
Earth  saw  thee  given  to  the  sky 

In  Freedom's  night  : 
Flashing  then  o'er  battle-fires, 
Thee  a  gazing  world  admires, 
Onward  borne  by  our  brave  sires 
To  Freedom's  light. 

Flag  of  Freedom  !  where  a  spot 
Darkening  did  thy  beauty  blot 

Wo  stain  we  see  ; 

Glad  to  Heav'n  our  song  we  raise. 
Nations,  swell  the  voice  of  praise  ! 
Every  star  floats  in  the  blaze 

Of  Liberty. 

Flag  of  Promise  !  let  a  world 
Wide  thy  glories  view  unfurl'd, 
O'er  land  and  sea  ! 


276  OLD    ENGLAND. 

Float !  for  ever  gone  thy  stains  ! 
Float !  till  earth  has  burst  her  chains  ! 
Float !  while  Heaven  bends  o'er  our  plains 
With  eagles  free  ! 

Flag  of  Glory  !  fly  no  more 

Where  'mid  death's  wild  thunder-roar 

Fierce  brothers  slay  ! 
Glow  now  love  where  once  glared  ire  ! 
Never  may  a  star  expire 
Till  the  Heav'ns  in  final  fire 

Have  pass'd  away  ! 


OLD    ENGLAND. 

England  !  Old  England  !  our  hearts 

are  with  thee, 
Where   bright    gleam   thy   cliffs   that 

smile  o'er  the  sea  : 

Old  England  !  old  England  !  thy  blood  pulses  here, 
And  soon  mingle  drops  by  kindred  made  near. 

Old  England  !  Old  England  !  thy  speech  is   our 

own, 
And  sways  with  a  power  more  strong   than  a 

throne ; 


SHADOWS.  277 

Old  England  !  Old  England !  thy  worthies  we 

know, 
Who  kindle  our  breasts  with  immortal  glow. 

Old  England  !  Old  England  !  a  crown's  on  thy 

brow, 

.But  no  slave  of  thine  a  fetter  feels  now : 
Old  England !  Old  England !  with  sceptre  o'er 

earth, 
We  hail  thee  the  land  where  freedom  had  birth. 

Old  England  !   Old  England  !  our  faith  is  from 

thee, 

We'll  guard  with  our  blood  like  those  o'er  the  sea  : 
Old  England  !  Old  England  !  thy  light  in  our  west 
Shall  flash  round  the  world  like  beams  of  the  blest ! 


SHADOWS. 

[  EEP  in  our  gleaming  river, 
Amid  the  mirror'd  trees, 
Yon  elm's  great  branches  quiver 
When  rippling  breathes  a  breeze. 

Trunk,  branch,  and  leaf  appearing, 

I  see  inverted  lie, 
And  shape  that  elm  uprearing 

Its  top  into  the  sky. 


278  THE    PHOTOGRAPH. 

Its  image  true  is  shimmering 
In  its  deep  liquid  glass  ; 

Or  dim,  or  bright,  or  glimmering 
As  cloud  and  sunshine  pass. 

Thus  in  my  soul  reflected 
Far  forms  of  Heav'n  appear  ; 

Confused,  reversed,  affected 
By  every  smile  and  tear. 

But  an  eternal  morning 

For  these  dim  shapes  of  time, 

Will  show — change  ever-scorning — 
Originals  sublime. 


THE   PHOTOGRAPH. 

S  you  toss  on  your  bed  what   strange 

images  roll 
And  chase,  each  the  other,  so  grotesque, 

o'er  the  soul  ! 
Oh  !  my  fancies  were  queer,  from  my  home  far 

away, 

And  half  robbing  the  night  to  make  plans  for  the 
day, 


THE    PHOTOGRAPH.  279 

Since  I  could  nofc  get  rid  of  the  thought  for  my  life. 
How  convenient  a  thing  is  a  Photograph  Wife  ! 
See  the  eye  and  the  face,  and  the  form  and  attire, 
With  those  touches  of  taste  man  was  made  to 

admire ; 
Muff,  hat,  glove,  and  kerchief,  all  arranged  for  the 

fun, 

And  as  anxious  as  madam  to  smile  to  the  sun ! 
But  no  poutings,  nor  scoldings,  nor  feminine  frown, 
Like  a  moon  in  a  cloud  when  the  sun  has  gone 

down. 

Take  her  gently — kiss  the  lip — look  into  the  face 
As  more  sweetly  she  smiles  than  a  rose  in  a  vase  ! 
Or  would  wife  take  her  leave  ?  must  we  send 

her  away  ? 

Then  no  trunks  are  to  pack  and  no  fare-bills  to  pay. 
Just  three  cents  will  convey  her  from  Texas  to 

Maine ; 
Just  three  cents  bring  her  back,  if  she  wishes, 

again  ; 

All  done  in  a  minute — like  the  flash  of  a  rocket — 
Wife  leaps  from  the  mail-box  and  sleeps  in  your 

pocket. 
Also,  Photograph  Children — they'll  answer  well 

too — 
No   combing,  nor    dressing,    nor  expense   for   a 

shoe ; 


280          THE    PHOTOGRAPH. 

No    romping   and    bawling,    and    fighting    and 

mussing  ; 

No  turning  and  twisting,  and  fixing  and  fussing  ; 
Nor  a  thought  for  the  future,  nor  a  tear  for  the 

past, 

Sweet  and  gentle  and  good,  and  besides,  it  will  last : 
Not  like  some  young  storm  of  Spring  that  sleeps 

in  the  sky, 

But  soon  bursts  into  showers  with  a  bang  and  aery. 
Indeed,  such  were  my  thoughts — I  ask  pardon  of 

all— 
These  queer  pranks  of  the  mind  will  not  stop  at 

our  call. 

Look  again  at  the  Picture  !  no  soul  brightens  there, 
'Tis  only  a  shadow  unsubstantial  as  air ; 
A  few  fading  lines  which  the  sun  in  his  play 
On  the  paper  has  kiss'd  with  a  frolicsome  ray  ; 
And  that  warmth  of  the  lip  and  that  fire  of  the 

eye, 

And  that  flash  of  the  soul  like  a  gleam  of  the  sky, 
That  soft  tone  of  kindness  when  love  breathes  in 

the  face, 
And  those  wifely  attentions  bestow'd  with  such 

grace ; 

The  low  tender  whispers  far  away  from  the  crowd, 
When  Eve  peeps  with  her  star  through  the  rift  of 

the  cloud ; 


LIBERTY.  281 

And  the  romp  and  the  chess  and  the  dolls  and  the 

fun, 
And  the  shout  and  the  skates  and  the  sleds  and 

the  run, 
With  all  that  is  bright  and  sweet  and  lovely  in 

home, 
By  our  mem'ry  made  heav'n  when  far  exiles  we 

roam — 
Oh  yes,   give  me  all — all — trouble,  children  and 

wife ; 
Take  the  smile  from  my  lip,  take  the  blood  from 

my  life, 

But  oh,  leave  those  I  love  in  Thy  goodness,  my  God, 
Who,  if  smitten  by  Thee,  will  yet  bow  to  Thy  rod  ! 
Yes  !  when  Death  strikes  one  down,  and  we  follow 

the  bier, 

As  we  drop  on  the  grave  the  soft  light  of  a  tear, 
We  will  look  in  the  hope  of  a  home  to  the  skies, 
Where  the  eye  never  weeps  and  the  heart  never 

sighs. 

LIBERTY. 

IS  not  the  chain  that  makes  the  slave, 

Since,  dared  the  tyrant's  might, 
'Mid  dungeon-gloom  will  lie  the  brave 
In  liberty  and  light. 


282  OUR    COUNTRY. 

Let  Neros  to  their  minions  say — 
"  Go  !  beat,  and  burn,  and  kill !" 

Their  tortures,  which  the  flesh  may  slay, 
Give  vigour  to  the  will. 

Oh  !  crown'd  by  truth,  the  man  behold 

Majestic  in  his  chain  ; 
Unawed  by  power,  unbought  by  gold, 

Unterrified  by  pain  ! 

If  wrong  a  universe  could  pile 

On  his  pure  honest  soul, 
Immortal,  he  would  trust  and  smile 

Uncrush'd  beneath  the  whole. 


OUR   COUNTRY. 

?OME,  Freedom's  sons  !  unite 
Beneath  our  Flag  of  Light, 

One,  strong,  and  true ! 
Ours  is  the  furnace-blast ; 
Ours  is  the  old  world's  past ; 
Ours  is  the  work  to  cast 
All  into  new ! 


LEAVES.  283 

Ye  men  of  every  race, 

Where  wave  our  stars  find  place 

And  hope  and  rest ! 
Your  blood  with  ours  must  flow ; 
Your  life  with  ours  must  grow 
Till  we  a  manhood  show, 

Earth's  last  and  best. 

'Twas  o'er  the  far  East  first 
The  light  of  Empire  burst 

With  orient  gleams : 
But  Westivard  since  its  way  ! 
Let  here  its  glories  stay, 
Back-flashing  earth's  grand  day 

In  Freedom's  beams ! 


LEAVES. 

joyous  Spring  first  clothed  the 
trees 

How  beautiful  and  bright 
The  leaves  were  dancing  in  the  breeze, 
And  flashing  in  the  light ! 

While  Summer  glow'd  with  fiery  breath 
Fresh  vigour  still  they  found, 


284  THE    HILLS. 

And  laugh' d  away  the  spectre  Death, 
And  tinkling  spurn'd  the  ground. 

With  dying  glories  Autumn  came 

Before  chill  Winter's  gloom, 
And  kindled  his  funereal  flame 

That  decks  leaves  for  the  tomb. 

Now,  crisp'd  and  brown  and  torn  and  dry, 

Before  the  breeze's  breath 
They  break  and  fall  and  whirl  and  fly, 

The  saddest  types  of  death. 

But  as  from  leaves  in  dark  decay 

Majestic  forests  rise, 
We'll  spring  from  dust  in  Life's  great  day 

Immortal  for  the  skies. 


THE   HILLS. 

K  WALK  upon  the  Hills.     The  Autumn 

smoke 
Beneath  curtains  the  vale ;    not  only 

scenes, 
But  sounds  are  mellow'd  in  the  haze.     The  corn, 


TEE    HILLS.  285 

Yellow  and  full,  torn  from  its  wither'd  stalk 
Without  a  crackling  sharpness,  on  the  ear 
Soft-rustles.     Half  hid  by  elms,  th'  ancient  mill, 
Gigantic  in  the  mist,  and  spectre-like 
And  dim,  hushing  its  huge  ponderous  wheel, 
Now  rumbles  in  the  vapoury  distance. 
Loud  Industry  its  energy  subdues, 
Made  gentle  by  the  spirit  of  the  day, 
And  aloft  sends  round  sweet  mingling  murmurs. 
The  axe — no  more  with  quick  successive  strokes 
Piercing  the  ear — gives  forth  a  lingering  sound  ; 
The  far  flail  muffles  its  thunders,  beating 
Heavily  as  that  scared  pheasant's  doubtful  wing. 
The  shrieking  train  across  the  rattling  bridge, 
Whirling  with  breath  of  smoke  and  eye  of  flame, 
Swift  as  a  rushing  tempest,  fills  the  vales 
With  gentle  sounds  as  of  a  monster  tamed. 
Why  from  you,  ye  Hills,  but  echoes  waked  ? 
Why  on  you  no  murmuring  fields  with  grains 
Made  golden  by  the  sun  ?     Say,  why  upon 
Your  breasts  no  orchards  drop  their  autumn- fruits, 
Or  vineyards  show  their  clusters  to  the  day  ? 
Why  do  these  hamlets  gleam,  these  cities  lift, 
Lofty  and  bright,  their  spires  alone  from  vales  ? 
O'er  your  ribb'd  sides  Art  rears  no  monuments, 
And  Traffic  wakes  no  hum.    'Tis  yours  to  stand 
Sublime,  but  desolate.     'Tis  yours,  ye  Hills  ! 


286  THE    HILLS. 

To  wreathe  your  cliffs  with  mists  that  feed  the 

springs, 

And  catch  the  clouds,  gigantic  as  yourselves, 
As  comes  their  fleecy  vastness  from  the  sea 
To  robe  your  forms,  and  Crown  your  tops  with 

snows, 

And  pour  enriching  rivers  o'er  the  world. 
Your  rocks,  ye  Hills  !   the  busy  cities  build  ; 
The  stately  shaft  from  you,  and  graceful  arch, 
And  circling  dome,  and  those  majestic  shapes 
Where  sacred  Art  immortal  virtue  shrines. 
From  you  the  navies  vast  that  float  the  seas, 
And  bear  their  conquering  thunders  round    the 

world. 

Ye  see  the  empires  rise,  ye  see  them  fall, 
While  ye  eternal  stand.     And  you,  ye  Hills  ! 
Bold  guardians  ever  rise  of  Liberty. 
She  lives  amid  your  cliffs,  she  breathes  your  airs, 
She  leaps  your  crags,  until  her  arm  can  bear 
Aloft  the  banner  of  triumphant  states. 
Our  souls  with  you  soar  to  sublimity. 
Great  Hills  !  ye  too  Jehovah's  altars  stand, 
Rear'd  up  by  Him  above  the  sordid  earth 
That  man  may  kneel  and  worship  nearer  Heav'n  ! 


287 


PAUL   PARSON. 


Allegheny's  peaks  aspire, 
Now  bathed  in  evening's  crimson  fire, 
Now  touch'd  with,  morning's  golden 

glow, 
Paul  Parson  on  his  mule  would  go. 

Long,  slender,  pale,  and  clothed  in  black, 
Paul  straddled  o'er  the  creature's  back  ; 
Then  left  his  inn  with  bow  and  smile, 
And  canter'd  on  a  pleasant  mile. 

Behold  him  go  through  town  and  bridge, 
Wind  round  the  vale  and  mount  the  ridge, 
Dashing  so  proudly  on  his  way, 
Like  some  gay  knight  of  ancient  lay  ! 

But  lo  !  the  mule  with  roguish  leer 
Arrests  this  glory's  bright  career, 
Plants  down  his  legs,  stiff  as  the  dead, 
To  tumble  Parson  o'er  his  head. 

Paul  bawls  and  pulls  and  beats  and  kicks,  — 
He  just  as  well  might  pound  on  bricks  ; 
He  jerks  the  rein,  he  whacks  the  face, 
But  stubbornness  still  keeps  its  place. 


288  PAUL   PAESON. 

Now  in  a  moment,  quick  as  light, 

Like  some  wild  deer  winged  on  by  fright, 

See,  flashing,  dashing,  here  and  there, 

Paul's  long  thin  shanks  sweep  through  the  air  ! 

From  stirrups  loosed,  Paul's  dangling  legs 
Bob  to  and  fro  like  wooden  pegs, 
While  thumping,  bumping,  on  he  goes, 
With  outstretch'd  arms  and  upturn'd  nose. 

His  form  bent  forward  as  he  flies, 
And  starting  from  his  head  two  eyes, 
With  two  coat-tails  outstreaming  wide, 
Paul  fears  the  dust  will  mar  his  pride. 

Then  after  five  swift-glancing  miles,. 

A  quiet  nestling  village  smiles, 

Where  the  tired  mule  with  quivering  breast, 

Stops  in  the  street  to  take  his  rest. 

Doors  open  fly,  up  windows  rise, 
Shop,  store,  and  bar-room  furnish  eyes, 
Till  dark  with  heads  the  town  appears, 
While  Gossip  laughs  at  Parson's  tears. 

Back  goes  the  mule,  and  back  and  back  ; 
Whack  Parson's  whip,  and  whack  and  whack  ! 
Till  he  dismounts,  with  weary  feet, 
To  lead  the  beast  along  the  street. 


PAUL  PARSON  280 

Muse,  shall  I  sing  how  Parson  ask'd 

Help  from  a  ivoman  as  he  pass'd  ? 

How  to  a  fence,  the  mule  possess'd, 

Leaning  his  weight,  Paul's  long  limb  press'd  ? 

As  evening's  shades  fall  on  the  plain 
Comes  through  the  calm  the  bull-frog's  strain  ; 
As  evening's  star  looks  through  the  cloud 
More  loud  the  croakers  and  more  loud. 

But  when  o'er  heav'n  night's  curtains  roll 
New  courage  lights  our  hero's  soul  ; 
High  strong  resolves  inflame  his  head 
And  Victory  hovers  round  his  bed. 

Now  as  the  morning  tints  the  sky, 
Paul,  mounted,  smiles,  and  says — "  Good-bye  !  " 
But  scarce  his  farewell  reach' d  his  host 
When  stopp'd  the  mule,  fix'd  as  a  post. 

Again  he  flies  with  whip  and  spur  ; 
Behind  his  heels  each  village  cur, 
Till  on  his  path  of  beams  the  sun 
One  half  his  splendid  course  had  run. 

Ah  !  wedged  between  two  walls,  crack  !  crack  ! 
A  shiver'd  window  strews  Paul's  back  ; 
The  damage  too  his  purse  must  pay 
Before  he  can  go  on  his  way. 
U 


290  ASEL'S  SOLILOQUY. 

While  yet  the  sun  with  cloudless  beam 
Glows  over  Alleghany's  stream 
Kittaning  saw  Paul's  image  fall 
On  blazing  street  and  quivering  wall. 

No  conqueror,  when  his  plume  may  wave 
Where  battling  hosts  have  found  a  grave, 
More  proud  than  Parson  when  that  mule, 
Submissive,  show'd  that  man  will  rule. 


ASEL'S  SOLILOQUY. 

!  that  to  me  earth's  Sabbath 
birth  e'er  gave ! 
Sweet  as  the  bloom  hung  round   our 

fragrant  wall, 

Bright  as  young  morning  on  the  river  wave, 
Soft  as  the  tones  when  evening  shadows  fall, 
The  bliss  which  o'er  our  Christian  home  had 

sway, 

Since  there  the  Cross,  once  hated,  was  its  all ; 
Nor  dim  the  light  of  the  millennial  ray 
When  Heav'n  a  thousand  years  streamed  o'er  our 
world  in  day. 

War  saw  his  sword,  hung  in  its  scabbard,  rust ; 
No  madden'd  nations  then  were  drench 'd  in  gore 


ASEL'S  SOLILOQUY.  291 

The  battle-flag  was  long  resolved  to  dust, 
And  Love  with  Truth  and  Peace  ruled  every 

shore  ; 

Mankind  one  nation  seem'd  for  evermore, 
And  earth  a  single  temple  rear'd  for  praise, 
With  Heav'n's  mild  glory  spread  a  covering  o'er, 
While  lands  to  answering  lands  their  anthems 

raise 
And  hymn  the  King  of  all  with  universal  lays. 

My  nature  monstrous  in  that  holy  age ; 
A  string,  in  childhood,  jarring  on  its  lyre ; 
Where  else  was  bright  a  spot  upon  its  page, 
A  rushing  smoke-jet  in  a  calm,  bright  fire  ; 
A  lion  in  my  play,  and  in  mine  ire, 
'Mid  gentle  kids  disporting  on  the  grass  ; 
Nor  brain,  nor  nerve,  nor  foot,  nor  limb  wouldtire 
In  those  mad  venturous  deeds  which  ever  glass 
Within  the  boy  the  tempests  o'er  the  man  to  pass. 

I  track'd  the  wild  beast  to  his  quiet  lair 
And  woke  again  the  savage  in  his  breast  ; 
I  shot  the  soaring  eagle  in  the  air 
Or  pierced  him  sitting  on  his  mountain-nest. 
Inaccessible  peaks  I  scaled  alone, 
On  dizzy  rocks  with  tempests  sought  my  rest, 
Orclimb'dhighup,  where  Silence  has  her  throne, 
Or  on  the  ocean  dash'd,  and  felt  his  waves  mine 
own. 


292 


A   SONG   IN  HEAVEN   TO  HOME. 

|H !    sweet  Home  of   my  Childhood,   I 

think  of  thee  now, 
With  the  light  of  this  glory  so  bright 

on  my  brow  ; 
Since  'twas  Heav'n  ordain'd  thee,  dear  place  of  my 

birth, 

Here,  here,  I'll  forget  thee   never  more  than  on 
earth. 

When  my  mother  I  see  with  her  harp  in  her  hand 
By  the  throne  of  her  King  in  her  sweet  beauty 

stand, 

Then,  blest  Home  of  my  Childhood,  I  can  but  recall 
Her  love  and  her  face,  and  oh !  the  tear  that  would 

fall. 

And  when  my  noble  old  father,  so  dear  and  so 

grand, 

In  the  bright  circle  of  saints  I  often  see  stand, 
Yes  !   thou  Home  of  my  Childhood  !  not  in  heav'n 

I'd  be 
Should  e'er  cease  from  my  soul  his  fond  goodness 

to  me. 


A  PARLOUR   PROLOGUE.       293 

Oh,  Home  of  my  Childhood  !  when  the  augels  do 

sing 
In  their  rapture  about  the  high  throne  of  their 

King, 
As  I  shine  with  the  throng,  as  I  gaze  through  the 

light, 
There,  thy  soft  tender  image  will  float  o'er  iny 

sight. 

And  as  long  as  the  ages  eternal  shall  roll 

Their  fresh  tides  of  glory  still  more  bright  o'er  a 

soul, 

Ever,  Home  of  my  Childhood,  thy  mem'ry  will  be, 
As  the  years  shall  flow  onward,  so  much  dearer 

to  me. 


A    PARLOUR   PROLOGUE. 

:  OT  in  Art's  temple  towering  to  the  skies, 
Where  tier  on  tier  the  circling  galleries 

rise ; 

Not  'mid  the  brilliance  flashing  o'er  the  stage 
Where  Genius  paints  the  manners  of  the  age  ; 
Not  where  the  pictured  curtain  rolls  on  high 
And  gives  the  drama's  scenes  to  charm  the  eye ; 
Not  where  applauding  thousands  clap  and  yell, 
Fitz- James  to  Mary  Ann  his  love  will  tell, 


294      A    PARLOUR   PROLOGUE. 

Bareacres  sham,  and  Angelina  blush 

When  shows  the  footman  in  her  dear  La  Plush. 

Ours  not  the  noisy  crowd,  the  swelling  dome ; 

We  greet  our  friends  within  this  smiling  home. 

For  snobs  we  go  to  our  ancestral  land, 

Xor  yet  deny  they  flourish  best  at  hand  ; 

Indeed  'twas  thought  such  creatures  thrived  alone 

Within  the  shadows  of  a  monarch's  throne  ; 

But  thine,  my  Country,  thine  it  is  to  show, 

Beneath  thy  stars  and  stripes  they  perfect  grow. 

They  live,  they  die,  most  rich,  most  prized,  most 

bold, 

Where  waves  thy  Flag  in  heav'n  its  proudest  fold  ; 
And  in  some  future  day,  some  inspired  hour, 
When  feels  our  genius  its  immortal  power, 
We'll  turn  from  royal  Britain's  lordly  isle, 
And  o'er  our  native  Shoddy  make  you  smile. 


295 


NEAR   MY  BIRTH-PLACE. 

RAIL  as  that  shell  whose  sail  is  o'er  the 

sea 

Thence  I,  a  tiny,  throbbing,  infant  thing, 
Forth  voyaged  on  my  immortality. 
Oh,  Peril  stands  to  tear  each  bark's  white  wing, 
And  o'er  mad  billows  send  it  shattering ; 
So  loud  the  war  of  wind  and  wave  before 
Full  sailing  into  bliss  our  souls  we  bring, 
Where  light  lies  golden  on  a  waveless  shore, 
And  the  wild  music  of  the  sea  resounds  no  more. 


ISRAEL'S  MARCH-WORD, 

ORWARD  !    'Tis  Jehovah's  cloud 

Leads  Israel  to  the  sea  ! 
Forward  !    Egypt  fierce  and  proud 
Clanks  chains  behind  the  free  ! 


Forward  !  Waves,  thy  mountain- walls, 
Shall  tower  along  thy  way  ! 

Forward  !  when  thy  Maker  calls 
'Tis  madness  to  delay. 


296        THE   HEART'S   MASTER. 

Forward  !   Where  yon  guiding  glow 
Moves  through  the  parted  deep 

Pharaoh  shall  lie  buried  low, 
In  death  his  minions  sleep. 

Forward  !  In  yon  cloud  and  fire 
Jehovah  makes  His  shrine. 

Forward  !  Neither  stop  nor  tire, 
And  what  is  best  is  thine. 

Forward,  Israel  !  fear  no  foes  ! 

Thy  rest  is  o'er  the  sea  ; 
Milk  there  with  the  honey  flows ; 

The  grape  there  waits  for  thee. 

Forward !  Heav'n's  own  fire  shall  die, 
And  Heav'n's  own  manna  cease  ; 

But  Jehovah  thy  supply, 

Thy  Bread,  thy  Light,  thy  Peace. 


THE  HEART'S   MASTER. 

•HEN  Morning  pencils  on  her  bright'ning 

sky 
The  first  faint  traceries  of  the  coming 

day 
One  low  lone  bird  will  trill  its  melody 


THE    HEART'S   MASTER.      297 

Responsive  to  a  solitary  ray. 
But  as  the  sun  floods  heav'n  and  earth  with  gold 
Each  leaf  grows  tremulous  with  exulting  strains, 
That  gushing,  mingling,  swelling  high,  are  roll'd 
Till  orchestras  burst  out  from  hills,  and  dales,  and 
plains. 

And  thus  from  some  cathedral's  solemn  walls 
A  single  voice  will  chant  in  melting  tone, 
While  from  a  single  stop  the  organ  calls, 
Thund'rous  and  deep,  its  supplicating  moan. 
ISTow  hark  !  each  tongue,   each  key,  wakes 

music  round : 

Peal  upon  peal,  on  billows  billows  rise, 
Till  all  the  temple  shakes  with  bursting  sound 
Prom  that  majestic  choir  which  even  thrills  the 

skies. 

In  some  lone  vale  of  Heav'n  an  angel  strays 
To  view  its  glories  in  soft  mellow'd  light: 
See  !  o'er  his  harp  involuntary  plays 
His  trembling  hand — his  lip  moves  to  the  sight ; 
One    murmuring    strain    awakes   a    thousand 

strings  : 

Lofty  and  full,  a  gathering  tide  soon  breaks  ; 
Voice  answers  voice,  to  seraph  seraph  sings, 
And  in  the  mingling  praise  a  universe  partakes. 


298      FOR  A    FRIEND'S   BOOK. 

And  thus  !   0  Christian,  is  it  with  thy  heart- 
Each  single  chord  with  earthly  music  thrills ; 
Wife,  parent,  child,  and  country  have  their  part ; 
When  Friendship  strikes  her  string  pure  rapture 

fills. 

But  only  Christ,  the  Master,  wakes  the  whole, 
Can  touch  each  key,  can  harmonize  each  tone, 
And  through  His  Cross  stir  love  through  all 

the  soul, 
To  burst,  Immortal  King,  in  songs  around  Thy 

throne ! 


FOR    THE    BOOK    OF    A    FRIEND. 

ancient  artist  from  each  form  and 

face 

A  soft  expression  steals,  or  line  of  grace, 
Until  in  one  great  work  all  beauties  glow 
And  Heav'n's  ideal  breathes  on  earth  below. 
Not  from  the  body  doom'd  to  sad  decay, 
Whose  wasting  features  death  must  hide  from  day, 
But  from  the  Mind,  immortal  as  its  sire, 
Whose  flame  shall  burn  when  brilliant  suns  expire, 
May  choicest  gifts  to  thy  loved  page  impart 
A  lustre  brighter  than  the  painter's  art ! 


THE  ALL-MAKER.  299 

Best  Friend,  let  Reason,  smiling  from  her  throne, 
With  gracious  sceptre  claim  thy  work  her  own ! 
Here  Memory  all  her  varied  treasures  bring, 
And  glittering  Fancy  wave  her  rainbow  wing ! 
Then  come,  Religion,  daughter  of  the  skies, 
Light  on  thy  brow  and  Love  within  thine  eyes, 
Thy  garland  weave,  thou  best-beloved  of  Art, 
And  paint  the  virtues  of  a  Christian  heart ! 


THE  ALL-MAKER. 

'HAT  is  the  universe  but  His  sole  will 
Who  from  Himself  did  first  create  the 

all, 

And  with  His  own  great  Omnipresence  fill 
The  unseen  atom  and  the  peopled  ball, 
And  without  Whom  nor  leaf  nor  world  may  fall  ? 
He  of  His  works  is  force,  and  law,  and  soul, 
And  His  invisible  breath  alone  can  call 
The  spirit  out  from  naught,  or  worlds  forth  roll, 
And  round  Himself,  the  centre,  make  revolve  the 
whole. 

Each  life  is  from  His  Life,  and  all  the  bloom 
Which  robes  the  earth  with  the  bright-budding 

spring 
In  glory  bursting  from  the  winter's  tomb 


300  INVOCATION. 

Is  but  Himself,  when  He  would  beauty  fling 
From  His  o'erflowing  fullness,  and  would  bring 
Bliss  from  Himself,  unmarr'd,  except  by  sin. 
Himself  removed,  and  of  His  works  each  thing 
Of  sense  is  naught,  while  spirits  feel  within 
The  worm  and  fire  from  which  none  but  Himself 
can  win. 


INVOCATION. 

HEN"  in  the  east  bright  purpling  moi*n 
Proclaims  another  day  is  born, 
And  o'er  some  hill  the  kingly  sun 
Rides  forth  his  radiant  race  to  run, 
The  blushing  moon,  the  star  retires 
To  hide  from  view  their  modest  fires. 
But  though  invisible  their  ray 
Within  the  brighter  blaze  of  day, 
They  shine,  they  roll,  nor  pause  nor  rest, 
With  living  millions  on  each  breast. 
Thus  Fancy,  Reason,  Art,  engage 
To  pour  your  splendours  o'er  my  page, 
And  yet,  as  stars,  when  bursts  the  light, 
Withdraw  their  glittering  globes  from  sight, 
So  may  your  radiance  fade  away 
Before  Religion's  brighter  day  ! 


301 


THE  RAINBOW. 

[YSTERIOUS  Bow  I    born  from  the 

rain  and  light, 
How  silently  thine  arch  is  flung  o'er 

heav'n  ! 

What  Power  invisible  arrests  his  beams 
Bright  flashing  from  the  sun,  their  hues  untwists, 
And  curves  them  o'er  our  world  in  majesty  ? 
Round,  matchless  Form!  do  spirits  in  thee  dwell, 
And  bend  thee  down  the  sky,  and  weave  thy 

charms, 

And  run  along  thy  glittering  sides,  and  smile 
From  thee  o'er  man  rejoicing  in  thy  peace  ? 
Who  lifts  into  the  air  these  tints  of  earth, 
The  soft  green  of  leaves,  the  violet's  hue, 
The  gold  of  fruits,  the  crimson  of  the  rose, 
And  all  the  varied  garniture  of  seasons  ? 
Twas  God  thy  grace  conceived  !  He  breathes  thy 

hues  ; 

He  hangs  thee  in  the  cloud,  His  pledge  of  peace  ; 
He  bends  thee  round  across  the  lonely  sea 
In  which  thy  glory  curves  to  tinge  its  waves. 
O'er  boundless  plains  thy  circling  colours  smile, 
Or  soar  aloft  to  span  the  gloom  of  woods, 


302        A    VISION   OF   SOLYMA. 

While  towering  high  into  thy  gorgeous  tints 
The  spires  of  cities  float.     Grandly  o'er  vales, 
Pillar'd  on  mountain- tops,  great  Bow  of  Light, 
Majestically  high  thy  glory  stands, 
Bright  type  of  Love,  uniting  Earth  and  Heav'n  ! 


A  VISION  OF  SOLYMA. 

|WEET  on  the  air  was  breathing  fragrant 

June, 

And  tempting  to  her  bloom  the  mur 
muring  bee, 

"When,  pass'd  the  blazing  splendours  of  the  noon, 
Upon  the  grass  I  slept  beneath  a  tree, 
Whose  leaves  arch'd  o'er,  a  whispering  canopy. 
Proud  as  a  queen  waved  near  my  head  a  rose, 
And  blossoms  round  my  dreamy  eyes  could  see  ; 
High  in  the  heav'ns  a  summer  sun  still  glows, 
And   sailing  o'er  his  face  no  cloud   its   shadow 
throws. 

I  dream'd  earth's  storms  were  hush'd,  nor  roar'd 

one  sea ; 
Serene  bent  down  the  blue  eternal  skies  : 


A    VISION   OF  SOLYMA.        303 

From  pain  and  death  our  world  forever  free 
Show'd  smiles  more  sweet  than  those  of  Para 
dise. 

Music  the  ear,  all  beauty  thrill' d  mine  eyes : 
Perfection  o'er  the  scene  doth  glory  throw  : 
No  tear-drop  glistens,  and  no  lip  breathes  sighs, 
While  in  each  breast  Love  whispers  soft  and 

low, 

And  Heav'n  comes  down  to  earth  where  joy  will 
ever  grow. 

High  on  a  central  hill  a  City  shone 
Bathed  in  a  glory  of  celestial  light : 
Not  dull  with  tarnish'd  time-decaying  stone  : 
Its  gems  and  gold  were  flashing  on  my  sight, 
In  beams  from  One  whose  face  dispell'd  the 

night. 

O'er  the  new  earth  it  shone  the  pride  and  queen, 
More  dazzling  than  the  sun  noon-crown'd  with 

light, 

So  bright,  that  by  mere  mortal  vision  seen, 
'Twould  blind  and  burn  the  eye  with  its  resplen 
dent  sheen. 

Hast  thou  look'd  on  the  Alps  while  yet  the 

Spring 
Left  on  their  sides  the  pure  long-lingering  snow, 


304        A    VISION   OF  SOLYMA. 

And  down  some  mountain  gorge  the  sun  did 

fling 

In  floods  the  splendours  of  his  parting  glow, 
Till  steeps  and  peaks  to  walls  and  turrets  grow  ? 
A  glittering  city  floating  seem'd  in  air, 
By  angels  built,  whose  forms  still  come  and  go: 
One    passing  cloud   soon   spoil'd   the    pageant 

rare, 
But  left  in  thee  the  types  which  do  last  things 

declare. 

Yes  !  thus  on  earth,  in  vision  veil'd  and  dim, 
Could  musing  men  'mid  Alpine  heights  behold, 
Oh  Solyma  !  a  dazzling  vision  swim 
Of  thy  gem-flashing  walls  and  streets  of  gold, 
By  them  remember'd  when  thy  charms  unfold. 
But  oh !  how  poor  at  eve  that  mountain-sight, 
When  thy  true  glories  are  to  eyes  unroll'd, 
Where  Beauty's  self  doth  live  to  make  thee 

bright, 
And  pour  upon  thee  still  her  everlasting  light  I 

There  is  in  man  a  deep  earth  cannot  fill : 
A  throb  in  eyes  for  charms  they  may  ne'er  see, 
An  ache  in  ears  for  strains  that  never  thrill, 
In  hearts  a  cry  for  something  yet  to  be — 
Some  bliss  supreme,  fix'd  as  eternity. 


A    VISION   OF  SOLYMA.        305 

Time  mocks  the  dream  it  never  can  destroy ; 
Men  shadows  chase  fast  as  the  shadows  flee, 
Yet  flying  tell  of  bliss  without  alloy 
In  some  immortal  state  where  but  to  live  is  joy. 


Oft  had  I  felt  humanity's  great  pain — 
The  void  that  craves  in  this  our  mortal  lot : 
To  fill  it  grasp'd,  and  ever  grasp'd  in  vain, 
And  found  I  wish'd  a  boon  which  earth  had  not, 
And  saw  on  all  her  good  a  blackening  blot. 
But,  oh  !  when  Solyma  burst  on  mine  eyes, 
There,  there  I  knew  the  life  without  a  spot : 
There,    there    would    lift   the    veil    with  glad 

surprise, 
And  on  existence  show  the  bloom  that  never  dies  ! 

And  now  soft  music  stole  out  on  mine  ear 
Like  some  old  prelude  to  an  evening  hymn : 
Then  burst  a  vision  beautiful  e'en  here, 
Where  harmony  must  breathe  in  face  and  limb, 
Conforming  always  to  some  mould  of  Him 
In  Whom,  concentred,  manhood  finds  its  all, 
And  from  Whom  rays  out  glory  to  the  rim 
Of  His  Creation,  and  will  robing  fall 
A  light  on  all  fair  things  which  we  may  lovely 
call. 


306        A    VISION   OF  SOLYMA. 

Oh  Florence !   raptured,  I  have  charm'd  mine 

eye 
With  that  sweet  marble,  shedding  fame  o'er 

thee, 
Which  caught  in  Greece  of  many  an  age  the 

sigh, 

Till  one  could  fix  its  immortality 
And  cut  in  stone  a  dream  where  all  agree 
A  spark  alone  flash'd  down  from  Attic  skies 
Could  kindle  into  light  a  shape  so  free 
From  mortal  blot,  and  which  o'er  time  will  rise, 
Expressing  mankind's  thought  that  unembodied 

dies. 

City  of  Art !  glass'd  bright  in  Arno's  tide, 
In  thee  no  form  like  that  I  saw  may  shine, 
O'er  which  eternal  beauty  can  preside, 
Live  in  each  part  and  breathe  in  every  line, 
And  by  years  undimm'd  th'  Artist  prove  divine. 
Upturn'd  and  beaming  still  I  see  the  face 
Which  seem'd  of  bliss  itself  a  holy  sign, 
While  limb  and  feature  soften'd  o'er  with  grace, 
Aud  flow'd  a  melody  beseeming  well  the  place. 

On  earth  there  was  in  hearts  a  sigh, 

And  the  dull  throb  of  pain  : 
The  tear-drop  trembled  in  the  eye, 

Then  fell,  to  fall  again. 


A    VISION   OF  SOLYMA.        307 

Oh  !  Change  o'er  all  a  shadow  threw, 

His  brother  Death  was  there, 
And  e'en  the  sparkle  of  the  dew 

Soon  vanish'd  into  air. 

Wild  phantoms  o'er  the  mind  would  rush, 

With  pain  the  body  thrill, 
And  ere  the  brimming  cup  could  blush 

The  tempting  wine  would  spill. 

The  love  that  on  the  warm  lip  press'd 

To  leave  its  tender  kiss, 
Would  soon  lean  o'er  a  cold,  cold  breast, 

And  find  a  woe  for  bliss. 

But  here,  on  all  things  is  the  bloom 

Which  lives  without  decay, 
And  He  who  brought  us  from  the  tomb 

Makes  our  immortal  day. 
Hallelujah ! 

Sometimes,  when  Evening  sets  her  golden  star 
Bright  in  the  trembling  bosom  of  the  lake, 
From  a  dim  mountain  cliff,  heard  high  and  far, 
A  musing  shepherd's  song  will  softly  break 
And  sleeping  echoes  in  the  rocks  awake ; 
Lip  answers  lip,  and  sound  replies  to  sound, 


308       A    VISION   OF  SOLYMA. 

And  as  new  breasts  new  inspirations  take, 
That  twilight  music  swells  and  spreads  around, 
Until  from  peak  to  peak  the  melodies  rebound. 

And  thus  the  strain  that  floated  from  that  hill, 
Borne  distant  on  the  calm,  celestial  air, 
A  single  saint  enraptured  with  its  thrill, 
And  then  a  flame  of  glory  kindles  there, 
Till  mingling  millions  in  the  joy  do  share. 
Hark  !  Hallelujah  rings  from  height  to  height ! 
To  seraphs,  seraphs  loud  the  word  declare  ! 
Far  burst  the  sounds  through  all  the  worlds  of 

light, 
And  that  one  song  with  praise  a  universe  makes 

bright. 

Waked  by  my  bliss,  my  dream  was  gone — how 

soon ! 

And  where  the  noon  had  beam'd  upon  mine  eye 
I  saw  a  pale  star  near  the  infant  moon 
Whose  silver  circle  pencill'd  o'er  the  sky, 
While    glittering    round    the    pole    the    Wain 

wheel'd  high. 
A  thundering  cloud  made  earth  more  drear  and 

dim, 

And  for  each  joy  before  I  breathed  a  sigh  ; 
Yet  from  the  music-burst  of  that  bright  sphere 
One  low  and  lingering  note  lives  murmuring  in 

mine  ear. 


309 


THE   USEFUL   AND   THE   BEAUTIFUL. 

only  when  rough  roots  below 
Unsightly  masses  tangled  throw 

Both  deep  and  wide, 
Majestically  the  tree  can  rise 
Which  time  and  storm  to  age  defies, 
In  stately  pride. 

Unpolish'd  rocks,  from  hills  convey'd, 
Deep  in  the  solid  earth  are  laid 

By  careful  hands, 

Before  the  house  where  art  would  reign 
Lifts  high  its  beauty  from  the  plain 

And  stately  stands. 

If  forms  which  please,  profuse  and  bright, 
Their  brilliant  colours  flash  to  sight 

And  charm  the  view, 
Yet,  firm  as  their  Almighty  Cause, 
Has  Reason  all  things  bound  in  laws 

As  numbers  true. 

Learn,  while  the  Beautiful  may  smile 
From  flower  to  star,  and  care  beguile, 


310      WRITTEN    FOR   A   LADY. 

Life's  charm  and  grace, 
The  Useful  yet  beneath  must  lie 
All  loveliness  of  earth  and  sky, 
Creation's  base. 


WRITTEN  FOR  A  LADY,   TO   BE   GIVEN 
WITH  HER   PHOTOGRAPH. 

,HE  costly  jewel  and  the  clasp  of  gold 
Oft  glitter  on  the  gift  when  love  is  cold. 
I  ask  not  here  the  aid  of  brilliant  art 
To  gild  the  priceless  friendship  of  the  heart. 
Wilt  thon  accept  myself,  and  her  survey, 
Well  known  when  youth  danced  bright  along  our 

way  ? 

Now  as  life  smiles  amid  our  clouds  and  tears, 
The  woman  seals  the  love  of  girlhood's  years. 
W'hen  fades  this  image  painted  by  the  sun, 
Wlaen  shadows  flee,  when  substance  is  begun, 
May  we  together  rise  from  dust  and  night, 
Where  Friendship  brightens  in  eternal  light ! 


311 


ON  A  BIRTHDAY. 

EMORY,  Love,  recalls  the  day 
When  morning  shade  and  sunlight  lay 

Upon  the  grass ; 
The  heav'ns  look'd  down  in  cloudless  blue, 
The  rose  breathed  fragrance  from  its  dew, 
And  Earth  smiled  in  her  loveliest  hue, 
To  see  thee  pass. 

Thy  cheek  was  bloom,  thine  eye  was  light, 
And  love  and  hope  and  beauty  bright 

Were  in  thy  face  ; 

As  Memory  sees  thee  through  the  years, 
Untouch'd  by  time,  undimm'd  by  tears, 
No  flow'r  when  opening  spring  appears 

Unfolds  such  grace. 

Since,  on  life's  path,  the  cloud  and  storm 
Have  sometimes  darken'd  round  thy  form 

And  swept  thy  sky  ; 
Yet  trial's  years  in  heart  and  brow 
Have  made  thee  fairer  to  me  now 
Than  when  in  youth  thy  marriage  vow 

Brighten'd  mine  eye. 


312  LIFE. 

If,  blushing  round  some  elder  rose, 

The  sweet  buds  burst,  the  gay  flow'r  glows, 

Beneath  green  trees ; 
But  statelier  its  maternal  pride 
To  see  such  beauty  at  its  side, 
And  know  that  mingled  perfumes  glide 

Out  on  the  breeze. 


LIFE. 

OW    awful    Life  !    scarce    one   bright 

insect-thing, 
Warm'd  by  a  sunbeam  to  a  moment's 

flight, 

Can  drop  amid  its  summer  fluttering 
And  change  its  little  day  for  sudden  night, 
But  sends  a  shudder  o'er  my  wondering  sight. 
Yet  not  each  world  alone  ;  each  atom,  teems 
With  that  which  moves  and  feels  ;  yon  very 

light, 

Binding  the  universe  around  with  beams, 
Hides  life's  mysteries  where  it,  dancing,  joys  and 
gleams. 

Oh !    what  then  Mind,  with  impulse,   passion, 

thought — 
That  which  can  love  and  hate  and  fear  and  will — 


THE    DEITY.  313 

A  quickening  spirit  into  being  brought, 
Now  pierced  with  pain,  now  keen  with  plea 
sure's  thrill, 
A  something  time  nor  space  nor  worlds  can  fill, 

Once  struck,  a  spark  for  evermore  to  blaze 

May  be  flash  forth  immortal  millions,  till 
Souls  thick  as  stars  shall  be  to  curse  or  praise 
In  lives  that  must  go  on  through  everlasting  days  ! 


THE  DEITY. 

GOD,  Thy  temple  is  the  Universe  ! 

Thy  Presence  fills  its  All,  and,  till  It 

was, 

Eternal  solitude  enshrined  Thy  Majesty  ! 
Yes  !  Being's  chain  begins  and  ends  in  Thee — 
From  and  by  and  for  whom  is  existence. 
In  the  wild  mystic  circuits  of  their  change, 
Impell'd  by  Thee,  the  elements  combine. 
Light  shines  Thy  brightness  circled  in  vast  suns, 
Diff using  thence  Thy  beams  to  glimmering  worlds. 
Th'  electric  essence  bursting  from  the  clouds 
In  thunder-bolts  or  tamed  to  flash  man's  thought, 
A  universal  force,  the  subtle  link 
Of  flesh  and  soul,  Thine  own  volition  darts. 
Form,  Number,  Law,  are  what  but  Thee  express'd, 


314  SOLICITUDE. 

And  Beauty,  Grandeur,  and  Sublimity  ? 

Thy  colours  paint  the  world  !     Thy  hand  bends 

round 
The  glittering  rainbow's  arch !      Majestic  stands 

in  Thee 

The  dome  of  Heav'n  !    Thy  breath  the  breeze 
That  lifts  the  flower,  and  curls  the  wave,  and  steals 
O'er  murmuring  leaves  to  cool  the  fever'd  brow. 
The  Seasons  pass  Thy  visible  glory  ! 
Storms,  billows,  earthquakes,  motions  of  Thy  will, 
And  souls,  immortal  sparks  struck  out  from  Thee  ! 
Thy  Power  the  bond,  Thy  Intellect  the  guide, 
Thy  Presence  the  circumference  of  all ! 


SOLICITUDE. 

TREMBLE,  love,  when  in  my  breast 

I  see  thine  image  lie ; 
To  me  bright  beauty,  which  no  art 
Could  from  the  dreams  of  genius  start 
In  forms  to  please  the  eye. 

The  morning  heav'ns  which  blush  and  glow 

Reflected  in  the  stream 
But  on  its  surface  splendours  throw, 
Nor  waters  tinge  that  glide  below, 

Unconscious  of  a  beam. 


EEGEET.  315 

Thy  love  through  all  my  being  reigns, 

As  when  the  painter's  dye 
Each  canvas-thread  pervades  and  stains 
And  if  a  fragment  but  remains 

Its  colours  you  descry. 

I  start  to  hear  my  heart-strings  break — 

Each  life-hope  rent  away ; 
The  ruin  fancy  death  could  make, 
The  weary  blank,  the  dull  cold  ache, 

The  midnight  where  smiled  day. 

Then  Faith  takes  wing, — beyond  the  tomb, 

In  God's  eternal  sky, 

Our  love  shall  live  where  shades  no  gloom, 
And  Christ  to  all  imparts  the  bloom  _ 

Of  Immortality. 


REGRET. 

TEARFUL   mourner  kneels  beside  a 

grave 
Along     whose     green    is    mingling 

autumn's  gold, 
While  through  the  hazy  mists  mute  branches  wave 
And  crimson  leaves  a  dying  year  unfold. 


316  REGRET. 

Back  from  the  mystic  past  what  mem'ries  teem  ! 

A  bride's  bright  beauty  smiling  rises  now  ; 
In  evening's  hush  beside  the  moonlit  stream 

He  hears  again  the  silver- whisper'd  vow. 

The  white-robed  priest,  the  brilliant  festal  throng, 
The  rainbow  glory  Hope  o'er  youth  did  throw, 

The  wedded  years,  like  golden  light  and  song, 
Gild  e'en  the  tomb  with  momentary  glow. 

But  why  that  cloud  as  shakes  yon  kneeling  form  ? 

Why  does  a  tear-drop  burn  the  throbbing  eye  ? 
Thus  from  the  hills  will  sweep  the  midnight  storm 

To  veil  the  summer-moon  and  tranquil  sky. 

Does  a  wife's  death-scene    make    such   anguish 
start  ? — 

The  last  seen  smile,  the  agonized  farewell, 
The  life-ties  tearing  from  an  aching  heart — 

That  pang  of  lonely  grief  we  may  not  tell  ? 

Ah  no  !  'tis  but  a  ivord  spreads  o'er  this  gloom 
Whose  tone  once  thriU'd  the  ear  that  sleeps 

with  pain, 

And  now  comes  thundering  from  the  solemn  tomb, 
By  memory  waked,  'till  heard  through  years  again  • 

Oh  !  when  we  drop  upon  the  grave  a  tear 
And  Love  rolls  back  the  curtains  of  the  past, 

May  all  its  scenes  unstain'd  and  bright  appear, 
Nor  dark  Regret  with  clouds  the  heart  o'ercast ! 


317 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN. 

AJESTIC  on  a  mountain  height 

And  crown'd  by  morn's  first  glow, 
A  pine  for  ages  flash'd  the  light 
Far  down  the  vales  below. 


And  often  would  bright  sunbeams  play 

Around  that  monarch-form, 
When  black  beneath  the  night-mists  lay 

Or  roar'd  the  darkening  storm. 

'Tis  evening.     Hark  !  Quick  murderous  blows ! 

A  crash  !  that  tall  pine  died  ! 
Where  tempests  vain  in  wrath  arose 

An  axe  pierced  through  its  side. 

And  towering,  rooted  in  the  right, 

Our  Martyr  in  our  state 
First  caught  the  beams  of  Freedom's  light, 

First  caught  the  storms  of  hate. 

And  did  he  fall  by  one  mean  hand 
Who  had  wild  millions  braved  ? 
Earth's  tyrants  know  his  ivork  shall  stand 
And  Liberty  be  saved  ! 


318  BIRDS  AT  HORN. 

As  from  the  mountain-pine's  decay 
A  loftier  tree  may  rise, 

That  Martyr  higher  lifts  in  day 
.The  cause  for  which  he  dies. 


BIRDS   AT   MORN. 

•  AKED  from  my  dreams  I  smiled,  and 

saw  the  day 
As  burst  the  young  sun  from  his  golden 

shroud, 

And  slanted  from  his  jocund  face  a  ray, 
Which,  tinting  morning  on  her  crimson  cloud, 
Inspired  the  tuneful  birds  to  warble  loud, 
As  if  the  King  of  Heav'n,  brimm'd  o'er  with  joy, 
Did  flash  his  beams  to  pipe  within  that  crowd, 
And  thus  benign  the  feathery  throats  employ 
To  one  glad  chorus  give  without  earth's  sad  alloy. 


ABOVE. 

OW  the  winds  are  ever  blowing, 

Which  the  flying  clouds  compel  ! 
How  the  streams  are  ever  flowing 
The  majestic  seas  to  swell ! 


ABRAHAM  LINCOLN.  319 

How  the  golden  mists,  ascending 

To  the  sun  from  ocean's  face, 
Drop  the  rain  by  Heav'n's  intending, 

Rills  and  rivers  to  replace  ! 

Day  and  night  o'er  earth  are  throwing 
Both  their  brightness  and  their  gloom, 

While  Death,  chasing  Life,  is  mowing 
Ceaseless  ha-rvests  for  the  tomb. 

Seasons  pass,  and  Time  advancing 
Makes  the  empires  rise  and  fall, 

Till  man  sees,  wherever  glancing, 
Desolations  which  appal. 

But  above  are  always  glowing 

Mystic  worlds  serenely  bright, 
With  no  tempests  madly  blowing, 

With  no  shadows  of  the  night. 

O'er  earth's  changes  they  are  sweeping 

In  serenity  sublime, 
Held  by  Him  within  whose  keeping 

Are  Eternity  and  Time. 

Even  could  their  spheres,  decaying, 

Be  huii'd  back  into  night, 
Soul,  believing  and  obeying, 

Thy  Eternity  is  light. 


320 


THE 'CLOUDS. 

OW  beautiful  the  Clouds  !  From  night 

distill'd, 
Their  stealthy  mists  creep  low  along  the 

fields, 

Hang  o'er  the  streams,  or  climbing  round  the  hills 
Spread  an  expanse  inimitably  white, 
With  trees  like  islands  lifting  through  their  green, 
Touch'd  by  the  gold  and  crimson  of  the  morn. 
Or  gathering  from  the  sky- encircled  sea, 
Clouds  hide  its  face  and  run  along  its  shores, 
Then,  rising  grandly  with  the  kingly  sun, 
Float  o'er  the  heav'ns.     And  infinite  their  forms  ! 
Diffused  and  grey  and  dim,  now  a  mere  breath, 
They  scarce  will  stain  the  blue  whose  dome  roofs 

round, 

Sublime  and  vast,  our  world,  while  soon  they  troop 
Along  the  sky  like  full-fleeced  flocks  of  spring. 
Clouds,  touch'd  as  by  some  hand  invisible, 
Will  take  artistic  shapes,  and  silent  form 
A  beautiful  mosaic  of  the  heav'ns  ; 
First  leaden,  dull,  then  tinged  with  bronze  and  gold, 
Or  fringed  with  red  volcanic  lines  of  flame. 


THE   CLOUDS.  321 

The  Rain-Clouds  with,  their  vapours  fill  the  air, 
Moist,  uniform,  and  low,  while  Nimbus  high, 
Distent  with,  casual  showers,  floats  by  himself, 
Oft  o'er  the  zenith  hung.   Storm-Clouds,  how  wild  ! 
By  tempests  borne  behold  them  sweep  near  earth, 
Straggling  and  thin  below,  ashen  above, 
And  higher  still  a  midnight  black,  frowning, 
And  terrible — mass  piled  on  dark'ning  mass — 
Not  torn  and  shatter'd  by  the  driving  winds, 
But  in  huge  solid  columns  towering  far, 
They  rush  on  demon -wing  across  the  sky 
With  solemn  earnestness  that  seems 
Intent  to  reach  the  limits  of  the  world. 
How  calm  and  white  the  noble  Cumulus  ! 
Great  King  of  Clouds,  silent  and  grand  and  high, 
His  throne  push'd  forth,   grows  vast  as  Heav'n 

itself — 

Blanc  lifted  into  air — rather  all  Alps — 
Peak  upon  snowy  peak,  and  ridge  on  ridge, 
With  ever-changing  tops,  involved  and  round, 
That  circle  with  a  boiling  whirlpool's  force, 
By  the  quick  lightnings  cross'd,  while  from  their 

deep 

Retiring  vales  growl  low  the  summer  thunders. 
Gorgeous  the  pomp  of  clouds  that  waits  the  sun ! 
Behold  his  heralds  flaming  o'er  the  east ! 
A  fringe  !  a  belt !  fold  burnishing  o'er  fold  ! 


322  THE    CLOUDS. 

What  hues  !  what  forms  !  varieties  of  glory  ! 
Purple  and  gold,  and  mountains  bright  of  flame  ! 
Heav'n's   resplendent   wealth  pour'd  out  on   the 

mists, 

That  curl,  and  glow,  and  burn  as  lifts  the  sun, 
'Mid  floods  of  rays,  his  head  above  the  world 
In  silent,  dazzling,  kingly  majesty  ! 
The  evening's  tints  how  rich  and  delicate ! 
Those  crimson  stains,  those  vistas  in  the  sky 
That  fade  into  infinity,  with  hues 
Serene  and  exquisite  !    Those  silver  lines  ! 
Those  isles  of  light !    Those  palaces  of  gold 
Where  angels  watch,  and  wave  their  glittering 


wings 


Glory  so  bright,  yet  oft  by  man  unseen, 
Streaming    o'er    Heav'n    effulgence   like    God's 

throne ! 

Nor,  ye  Clouds,  are  ye  but  painted  splendours 
Born  to  please  the  eye  !     Bains  do  form  in  you 
To  feed  the  world !    Keep  in  the  skies  your  drops, 
And   flowers  fall   from  their  stems,  and  forests 

die, 
And   harvests   fail,    and    cease    the   murmuring 

streams ! 

Nay  !  seas  would  vanish  in  the  burning  suns, 
And,  void  of  you,  our  earth  would  roll  a  tomb. 
Ye  bright,  fantastic  shapes  that  deck  the  skies, 


BOABDIL'S    LAMENT.          323' 

Our  hope  and  life,  floating  from  land  aud  sea 
Aloft  o'er  Heav'n,  rise,  Clouds,  in  beauty  rise, 
Wafting  like  fragrance  from  the  censer's  gold, 
Glowing  and  pure,  the  grateful  love  of  Earth  ! 


BOABDIL'S   LAMENT   ON  THE   HILL 
OF  TEARS. 

CANADA  I  thy  king  weeps  in  sight  of 

thy  walls ; 
His  crown  on  his  foe,  a  lone  exile  he 

stands  ; 

And  his  heart  left  behind  in  Alhambra's  halls 
He  goes  for  his  grave  to  far  infidel  lands. 

In  Mem'ry  how  fair  groves,  fountains,  and  bowers, 
The  silver  of  moonlight  o'er  Alhambra's  art ! 
A  lute's  note  of  love  steals  aloft  to  those  towers 
As  mine  once  arose  to  the  maid  of  my  heart. 

Hark  !  festival  music  swells  high  on  the  air 
Gay  forms  of  dancers  float  again  o'er  my  sight ! 
I  seem  on  my  throne  'mid  the  brave  and  the  fair, 
As  Alhambra's  glories  stream  wide  through  the 
night. 


324          BOABDIL'S   LAMENT. 

In  palace  and  street  turban'd  heads  I  behold  ! 
My   steed   paws   the   street  and  my   banner's 

unfurl'd  ! 

Bright  gleam  from  yon  minarets  crescents  of  gold  ! 
Bride  of  Heav'n,  Granada  smiles  Queen  of  the 

world  ! 

'Tis  Fancy's  false  dream,  and  thy  glory  is  gloom  ! 
By  cannon  I  see  thy  tall  battlements  torn ! 
No  rose  on  thy  wall  !  on  the  orange  no  bloom  ! 
Thy  knights  are  in  chains,  and  an  exile  I  mourn. 

Yes !  Infidel  swords  in  thy  streets  flash  their  flames, 
And  Infidel  songs  e'en  now  burst  from  thy  halls  ! 
The  Infidel  priest  thine  own  Prophet  defames  ! 
The  Infidel  cross  gleams  o'er  Alhambra's  walls ! 

Be  done  Allah's  will !    This  my  star  did  foretell, 
That  rose  o'er  a  throne  but  to  set  in  a  grave  ; 
The  Moor's  empire  is  o'er  !     Granada,  farewell ! 
Thy  king  drops  a  tear  for  thy  fair,  good,  and 
brave ! 


325 


AYXA'S   REBUKE   FOR   BOABDIL'S 
LAMENT. 

LAMENTS    for   the    coward!     for   frail 

woman  be  tears  ! 

Let  the  weak  breasts  of  lovers  heave 
their  sighs  to  their  fears  ! 
But  the  eye  of  the  warrior  with  lightnings  should 

flame, 
And  the  lip  of  the  warrior  should  battle  proclaim. 

Had  my   purple   scarf    broken    o'er   Alhambra's 

stones, 
And  thy  proud  father  stifled  the  breath  of  thy 

moans  ; 
Had  the  Arabic  steed  whose  hoof  thunder'd  through 

night 
Hurl'd  thee  down  from  his  neck  o'er  the  precipice 

height ; 

Had  the  stern  Hassan's  courage  but  flash'd  from 

thine  eye  ; 
Thy   banner     had    Zagal    wide   unfurl'd    to   the 

sky; 


326  AYXA'8   REBUKE. 

Had  chivalrous  Musa  worn  thy  crest  and  thy 

crown, 
And  thy  steel  gleam'd  in  death  where  thy  gold 

was  paid  down  ; 

Had  the  zeal  of  the  Christian  burn'd  hot  in  thy  soul 
When  we  saw  o'er  our  hills  his  curs'd  Cross  first 

unroll ; 
Had  thy  mother's  own  heart  in  thy  bosom  beat 

warm, 
Spurning   Infidel   leagues,    daring   battle's   wild 

storm  ; 

Then,  Granada,  thy  towers  would  have  stood  on 

the  earth ; 

There  no  Infidel  guard,  there  no  Infidel  mirth ; 
And  on  Alhambra  now  no  Cross  would  be  seen, 
Where  the  Crescent  in  glory  flash'd  for  ages  its 

sheen. 

Oh  Boabdil  !   he  who  would  rule  must  be  brave, 
And  if  reft  of  a  throne  must  choose  next  a  grave. 
'Twas  not  Fate  by  thy  star  sank   Granada  in 

gloom : 
But  thy  weak,  coward  heart  is  thine  empire's  sad 

tomb. 


327 


MADRIGAL. 

PEN",  Love,  thy  lattice  wide ! 

Let  the  moonbeam  pass  ! 
See  it  through  the  branches  glide 
See  it  on  the  grass  ! 


Open,  Love,  thy  lattice  now ! 

Let  the  breeze  come  through ! 
Let  it  play  around  thy  brow, 

And  thy  bosom  woo  ! 

Open,  Love,  the  lattice,  while 

I  gaze  up  on  thee  ! 
Let  yon  star-beam  kiss  a  smile 

From  thy  lip  to  me  ! 

Love,  thy  lattice  wide,  wide  fling 
Be  like  yon  bright  sky ! 

While  the  sea  is  murmuring 
It  bends  lovingly. 


328 


SERENADE. 

LEEP,  Love,  with  smiling  dreams 
Bright  o'er  thy  bed 
Some  rosy  head ! 
Light-wing'd  the  boy-god  gleams. 
Sleep,  Love ! 

Sleep,  till  his  arrow  flies. 

Twang,  twang,  the  dart 

Goes  to  thy  heart ; 
He  laughing  mounts  the  skies. 
Sleep,  Love  ! 

Wake,  Love,  and  see  the  moon  ! 

Beam  like  yon  star, 

But  not  afar, 

And  fling  a  kiss  down  soon  ! 
Wake,  Love  ! 


ART   AND  NATUBE. 

\  HE  picture  view !  what  wild  sublimity  ! 
Omnipotence  has  waked  and  hurl'd  the 

storm, 
Tossing  the  deep  to  tumult.     Round  that  tower 


AET   AND    NATURE.  329 

Rising  defiant  on  its  ocean-rock, 

Dashes  the  maniac  wave,  whose  flying  spray, 

Hung  high  in  air,  before  the  tempest  streams, 

While  sea-birds  circle  on  exultant  wing, 

Silent  and  calm,  above  the  foam  and  roar 

Of  battling  elements.     A  mystic  spell 

Enchains  as  we  admire,  0  Man,  thy  skill. 

But  draw  near  the  canvas.     Th'  illusion  fades, 

And  rough,  unseemly  colours  shock  the  eye 

Where  genius  breath'd  to  waken  ecstasy. 

And  this  is  Art !     Ye  forms  of  ancient  Greece, 

That  in  her  temples  hung  to  kindle  ages, 

And  ye  which  smile  along  Italia's  walls, 

Or  charm  'neath  colder  suns — Immortal  Works, 

Yet  were  and  are  ye  rough  when  seen  so  near  ? 

Not  Nature  thus  !    Her  worlds  behold  on  worlds, 

Systems  round  systems  rolling  ever  on 

To  fill  a  universe  with  light  and  life, 

And  then  draw  close  and  scan  her  smallest  parts. 

The  glittering  drop,  the  blushing  peach's  down, 

The  yellow  dust  that  loads  the  murmuring  bee, 

A  feather's  tint,  an  insect's  golden  wing, 

All,  all,  the  far,  the  near,  are  exquisite. 


330 


MY   ROSE. 

T  noble  Rose,  crown'd  Queen  of  flowers. 

What  makes  thy  lovely  hues  ? 
Is  it  the  drops  of  summer  showers  ? 
Is  it  the  morning  dews  ? 

How  can  that  black  and  scentless  earth 

Which  round  thy  roots  is  seen 
Give  this  delicious  fragrance  birth 

And  soften  in  thy  green  ? 

Or  do  these  whispers  of  the  air 

Waving  thy  graceful  stem 
A  beauty  give  which  kings  despair 

To  purchase  in  a  gem  ? 

May  be,  from  golden  realms  of  light 

Some  dancing  sunbeam  weaves 
This  bloom  of  glory,  rich  and  bright, 

That  lingers  in  thy  leaves. 

Or  with  the  blushes  of  the  morn 

From  heav'n  an  angel  flies, 
And  spreads  these  colours  which  adorn, 

More  splendid  than  his  skies. 


MY   ROSE.  331 

Can  a  celestial  spirit  hide 

Now  in  thy  circling  bloom, 
And  lift  thy  stem  in  stately  pride 

And  shed  thy  sweet  perfume  ? 

Oh  what,  my  Rose !  with  mystic  power 

Forever  thus  commands 
To  thee,  a  perishable  flower, 

Our  eyes  and  hearts  and  hands  ? 

The  eternal  thought  of  God  thou  art, 

His  beauty  to  enshrine  : 
The  charm  that  binds  thee  to  each  heart 

Resistless,  is  divine. 


THE   REAL  AND   THE   IDEAL. 


AN,  oh  Spirit !  thine  Ideal 

Be  obscured  by  mists  of  earth, 
While  this  dull,  exacting  Real 
Stifles  a  celestial  birth  ? 


Why  thrill  senses  form'd  for  pleasure 

With  this  agony  of  pain  ? 
Why  do  powers  without  a  measure 

Never  here  their  sphere  attain  ? 


27541 

332      THE  REAL  AND  THE  IDEAL. 

Why  are  plans  forever  failing 
In  this  selfishness  of  strife  ? 

Why  are  hearts  forever  wailing, 
Crush'd  beneath  the  load  of  life  ? 

Oh  !  must  we,  to  Heav'n  aspiring, 
By  earth's  cares  and  duties  bound, 

Sink  till,  with  the  struggle  tiring, 
Grovelling  we  love  the  ground  ? 

Spirit,  trust  !  since  all  is  tending 
To  thy  work  and  growth  above, 

Where  thy  powers  will  live,  ascending 
In  eternal  truth  and  love. 

Fix'd  in  Heav'n  our  grand  Ideal, 
Bright  beyond  the  clouds  of  time, 

Then,  pursued  on  earth  the  Real, 
Life,  made  true,  becomes  sublin.e. 


THE  END. 


CHISWICK    PRESS  : — PRINTED    BY   WHITTINGHAM    AND   WILK1NS, 
TOOKS  COURT,    CHANCERY    LANE. 


